


That Night in Wyzima

by Bunddy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: AND THE CHARACTERS, Anal Sex, Bottom Roche, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Falling In Love, Feels, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Grief, M/M, Masturbation, Nightmares, Slow Burn, You've been warned, after the Battle at Kaer Morhen, and A Reason of State sidequest, and the readers, confused Geralt, confused Roche, cuz there isn't enough of that, for us, spoilers for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 38,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7310191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunddy/pseuds/Bunddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Battle at Kaer Morhen Roche asks Geralt a very personal favor. </p><p>What follows is an emotional roller coaster for both them and you ;3 Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Favor

„I will remember your teachings always”, said Geralt, standing at Vesemir’s grave. The Witcher was obviously sad that his mentor had died. 

“No Witcher ever died in his bed.” A phrase that Vernon Roche just recalled Geralt saying a while ago. 

The battle at Kaer Morhen against the Wild Hunt was a hard one. They were lucky only one of them died. Nevertheless, it was a sad sight to see the old Witcher on his funeral pyre.

Looking at it burn down, Roche started thinking of Foltest. He hadn’t been to his grave once. Then again, he was a wanted man. The Black Ones would probably smash his head in, if he only dared to set foot in Wyzima. It didn’t feel right not to pay his respects at least once at his old king’s grave. Not after all he’d done for Roche. He looked back down, clenching his fists, trying not to burst out in a fit of anger. Foltest did so much for him, was like a father for the former rogue, yet, he failed. Couldn’t save him in time. It still hurt now, like it did on the day of his death. 

Roche snapped out of his thoughts, as the Witcher approached him. 

“Well, Geralt. I can say I’ve seen it all now”, the former commander of the Blue Stripes said, after Geralt asked how they were doing.

“I still don’t believe everything that happened”, added Ves. She was clearly sad over Vesemir’s passing too, but didn’t shed a tear. She was impulsive, sure, but when it really mattered, she always held herself together. Roche could always count on that.

“Risked your lives for me. How can I repay you?” asked the Witcher. 

“Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you. But not here and not now. Once everyone leaves, I’d like to talk to you in private, would that be alright for you, Geralt?”

Geralt nodded, looking a little confused, then went to the others, talking to them, asking how they were feeling. Ves looked at Vernon, clearly puzzled.  
“What do you want from him, Roche?”

“It’s…”, he sighed, “personal and none of your concern.” He gritted his teeth, already close to losing his temper. 

Ves realized quickly that she shouldn’t argue with him right now and didn’t pry fur-ther.

 

A few days later, after everyone (including Ves – Roche had sent her to the camp to await him there, not without protests) left, Roche found himself pacing inside the keep. He had been mentally preparing himself for this moment for hours. Why was it so hard for him to ask a simple question to his friend? He shook his head, cursing himself but then repeating his question over and over in his head.

Geralt, after Vesemir’s funeral, I have been thinking about Foltest…. No. Not good.

We’ve been through so much, how about we go to Wyzima and…. God, this is get-ting worse and worse.

Geralt, I need to ask you a favor. Ok. So far, so good.  
After the funeral, I saw how close you and Vesemir were. I feel your pain. After I lost Foltest, I was in shatters. The worst part is, I can’t even -- 

“Roche? What did you want from me, again? Must be important, if you’re so nervous already. Ciri and I are heading to Wyzima soon, though so it better be.”  
The Witcher approached Vernon with a sleepy smile. He seemed to be on his way to the now Nilfgaardian city already. 

“Geralt, I have a favor to ask you”, Roche started but found it hard to find the right words, “I… uhm… wanted to go to Wyzima, too. For… personal reasons. But I’m a wanted man, so if anything goes wrong, I’d like you to… cover me on my way through the city.” 

Roche’s mouth went dry, his stomach turned. He phrased the question differently in his head. And also better. 

Geralt looked at him, confused on why the former commander was at a loss for words. He had never seen him like that. The Witcher smiled a little at the stammering man in front of him. 

“Alright, we can go with you. But we have to see Emhyr first. After all, he wanted me to find his daughter.”  
Roche was relieved; he unclenched his fists, which he didn’t realize he was clenching in the first place and smiled softly. 

“Thank you, Geralt. It… truly means a lot to me. When are we leaving?”

“Right now. Get on your horse”, the Witcher said with a smile.


	2. Off to Wyzima!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche travelled together with Ciri and Geralt to Wyzima.
> 
> (I'm shit at summaries, sorry)

They had been on the road for a few days now; the journey itself was relatively calm. Geralt and Ciri talked most of the time, while Roche rode silently next to them, lost in his own thoughts. 

He’d have to disguise himself. Luckily for him, his trusty chaperon could be made into a hood within seconds. Then, only his medal had to be tucked into his coat and he should be a little harder to detect at least. Over his coat he also wore a brown cape to cover the bright blue. Triss gave it to him after he asked for some kind of cover. She flashed him a knowing look but Roche didn’t know what to make of it. He knew the sorceress for a while now. 

Geralt and her were lovers when they’ve met. Now, Geralt was together with Yennefer. The raven haired sorceress with purple eyes. The Witcher certainly enjoyed an exciting love live, Roche had to give him that. He never really understood, though, on why he broke up with Triss. She seemed kinder, more caring than Yennefer. 

“So, Roche”, Geralt broke the silence that had been surrounding them for the past while, “What’s with the secrecy? Why do you need to go to Wyzima?”

Ciri also looked at him curiously. She reminded him a little of Ves. Stubborn, impulsive and more than capable of looking after herself. He found himself liking the ashen haired young woman. Roche looked at Geralt with a serious expression while an-swering.

“I…”, he sighed, “I want to go to Foltest’s tomb. Haven’t paid my respects at all, yet. What, with all that happened with us and all that.” He focused on the road, avoiding looking into Geralt’s eyes. 

“That’s understandable. Where is this tomb?”

“I’ll show you once you’ve met with Emhyr. I’ll wait outside the castle and we can go together from there.”

“How long have you known each other?” asked Ciri suddenly. She looked at Roche, waiting for him to tell her their story.

Roche proceeded to tell her everything that happened between them, with Foltest’s death up until Loc Muinne. By the time he was finished, Wyzima was only a short while away, the sun slowly going down. They didn’t rest, though, heading straight to the city. Vernon stayed a little behind, taking off his chaperon and quickly making it into a hood, putting it over his head. Geralt looked over his shoulder at him, a little surprised but smiling. It sent shivers down Roche’s spine. He tried to look as neutral as possible, while being pierced by the Witcher’s cat-like eyes and tucked his medal into his coat. 

“What?” Roche asked a little irritated, quirking one eyebrow.

“Nothing”, the Witcher replied, “just unusual to see you without the chaperon on your head.”

Ciri looked at Geralt, then back at Roche, clearly perplexed. 

“Geralt, what do you mean?” she asked.

“He forgot to mention one part of his story. Vernon never takes off his chaperon”, Geralt said with a smile, still looking softly at Roche.

Roche glared at him, but didn’t bother coming up with a sarcastic reply.

It was early in the evening when they finally arrived in Wyzima. They left their horses at the nearest stable and went to the palace by foot. Roche always stayed behind his friend and his daughter. He knew it wasn’t actually Geralt’s daughter; she was Emhyr’s offspring, though the emperor didn’t seem to care much about her. At least that’s what she told him on their journey. Roche wasn’t surprised about that. 

They reached the keep, Geralt looked over his shoulder at Roche. 

“Don’t know how long we’ll be gone”, the White Wolf said.  
Roche nodded: “I’ll wait nearby, someplace I can see you coming out again.”

Geralt and Ciri, who seemed a little irritated, proceeded to go into the castle. Roche sat down on a bench with view of the gates. 

They all didn’t know how long the meeting with the emperor would take, so he de-cided to smoke his pipe. The tobacco calmed his stressed nerves. He needed that, seeing the event that lay before him. Roche watched people strolling through the streets, happily conversing. Did they not care their king was dead and Wyzima was occupied by Black Ones?! 

He took a long drag on his pipe. Roche didn’t want to get irritated, not if Geralt could be back any moment. He thought back to when he was still at Foltest’s court as his right hand. The former commander made so many enemies along his way and so little friends. But once he met Geralt, he was always there for Roche. Complaining here and there, sure, Roche admitted, but in the end always helping him out. And now, here he was again, doing Roche a favor by visiting Foltest’s grave with him. He sighed. Sometimes he thought he didn’t deserve a friend like Geralt. 

Just as he glanced back at the gates of the castle, Ciri stormed out, followed shortly by Geralt shaking his head a little. She was infuriated. Roche quickly stood up and walked to them.

“If he thinks he can buy me, he’s sorely mistaken”, she announced loudly. Almost loud enough for people in the city to hear.

“He offer anything specific?”, asked the Witcher calmly.

“Yes, very specific. And thoroughly absurd”, she hissed back, “Sorry, I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, at least.”

Roche could imagine what the emperor planned for his daughter. Probably offered her a lot of money so she would rule Nilfgaard at some point. He looked down in a lopsided grimace.

“Ciri”, Geralt began, “I won’t pressure you into telling me what he offered. And about the Sabbath – we should head off to Bald Mountain tomorrow. I still have to accom-pany Roche and its best if we leave tomorrow.”  
Ciri eyed both of them, still angry at her father and then took a deep breath to calm down a little.

“Fine. I’ll be in the nearest inn. There is one not very far from here in that direction”, she pointed over her shoulder. The sign of the inn was visible from where they were standing, so it wouldn’t be hard to find it later. Ciri walked off, leaving the two men by themselves. 

“She reminds me of Ves, you know”, Roche said quietly, “Stubborn, impulsive and hard to control.” He chuckled at that. 

“Now that you mention it, she is”, Geralt answered with a smile. “Got me thinking, I always wanted to ask you on how you see Ves? Like I see Ciri? Or is there something more between the two of you?”

Roche thought about it for a moment, then answered: 

“I think I already told you that I found her being held captive by Scoia’tael years ago now. They annihilated her whole village but the commando spared her because he enjoyed…”, he stopped talking, didn’t want to say the next words. 

Roche looked down again and shook his head. Thinking about these elven whore-sons and what they did to Ves made him still as furious as the day he freed her.

“It’s ok, Roche. You don’t have to answer. Let’s go to the cemetery.”

Geralt was about to head to the graveyard, where he once met a talking ghoul. Fun-ny story, he needed to tell this one more than the one in the sewers and the Zeugl. Before he could walk any further, Roche grabbed him by his right shoulder, stopping him. 

“Where are you going?”, the commander asked curiously, though, bothered.

“To the cemetery? Because we wanted to go there, remember?”, the Witcher asked back.

Roche shook his head and pointed to their left: “Not that necrophage infested ground. I mean the crypts for members of the royal families. They’re not far from the castle. Come, I’ll show you.”

Roche walked quickly towards it, Geralt right next to him. Before they arrived at the royal burial grounds, Roche broke the silence again.

“Ves is like a daughter to me. Or… niece or whatnot”, he said with a shrug and hand gesture, “if you were still wondering about that. There is nothing more between us and never will.”

Geralt nodded and hummed in agreement.


	3. The commander and his king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche enters the graveyard, asking his king a last favor..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare your bodies and get some tissues ready, alright? Alright.
> 
> Feels incoming. Lots of feels.
> 
> You've been warned.
> 
> Have fun ;3

The cemetery was within a garden they just arrived at. It was fenced, no way to climb over it and a single guard standing at the gate. Normally there would be roses and white lilies growing beautifully around the graves. But now leaves from the last fall were still on the floor and through the fence Roche could see the overgrown grave-stones, full with wild flowers and vines. The gorgeous resting place for the royal family was but a memory now. The Black Ones didn’t even care to clean the garden up. Why would they, he thought to himself. Thinking about one of those Nilfgaardian whoresons perhaps stomping around on his king’s grave made his fists and jaw clench.

He and Geralt stopped walking and turned to look at each other. 

“Fuck, the gate is guarded”, Roche hissed through clenched teeth, “Got a plan to knock the guard down? I will get into this graveyard and if I have to break this whoreson’s neck for it.”

“Relax, Roche”, Geralt said calmly. The White Wolf smiled at him, which made his stomach turn upside down again.

“How can you be so calm, Geralt?! The guard is standing in front of the gate like he’s glued there and we cannot possibly climb over the fence. Fucking hell”, Roche whis-per-shouted and stomped his left foot on the ground in a fit of anger. 

Geralt only laughed at the enraged man, patting him on the shoulder. He didn’t seem to realize how serious this situation was for Roche.

“Calm down. I’m a Witcher, remember? I can cast certain signs. Just come with me and look for yourself”, he turned around and walked towards the guard, Roche on his foot, still heated.

 

“Halt! By order of his Imperial Majesty Emhyr var Emreis no one is allowed inside the former royal cemetery grounds! Now get lost”, the Nilfgaardian guarded barked at them, as they came to stand in front of him. 

Geralt made a weird gesture with his hand and the guard seemed to be… dazed? Or maybe hypnotized?

“Listen”, the Witcher spoke to the guard quietly, “You’re letting my friend here inside the cemetery and let him stay there as long as he wants, alright?”

“Yes, of course, sir.” The guard stepped aside and held the gate open for Roche. “Please, do come in.”

Roche looked amazed at Geralt. Before he went inside, though, he turned around to the White Wolf and said: 

“I’d like to do this on my own, but if any more guards show up, let me know, alright?”

Geralt nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He stood close to the gate, keeping watch on the streets for patrols to come by. Meanwhile, Roche made his way into the garden.

He walked around the garden for a few minutes, looking at the tombstones, reading the names of the buried. Princess Adda’s grave should be nearby, too. When Geralt tried breaking the curse off her for the second time, she sadly died in the process. Foltest was utterly depressed weeks afterwards. Roche stood by his side in those hard times, trying his best to comfort him. He never was good at these kind of things but he thought he did a good job at calming his king down. 

At the time, he would never have thought that Geralt would save his king from an assassination attempt at the hands of another Witcher, then be accused of killing Foltest shortly afterwards. Their journey together was wild. 

But he didn’t want to dwell on that right now. He just wanted to talk to his king for what would probably be the last time. 

He spotted one relatively new looking gravestone near the end of the garden. It was round on the top with a crown carved into the back. Like the crown Foltest always wore. That must’ve been his grave. 

Roche quickened his pace, his heart racing just as fast. He looked at the front side of the gravestone, reading:

“Here lies King Foltest I, King of Temeria Prince of Sodden Sovereign of Pontar and Mahakam Suzerain of Ellander Senior protector of Brugge, Angren and Riverdell.  
May he rest in peace.”

The grave was cultivated with white lilies, that were long overgrown by weeds and other wild flowers, since no one took care of it. Roche couldn’t stand looking at it in this state, so he took out a small hunting knife he always hid under his coat and carefully cut vines and other plant life that didn’t belong there. He tossed the remains of the weeds to the side. It took him a while to clean the grave up properly but it was worth it. Now, it looked like a resting place worthy of a king again. He smiled bitterly after looking at his handiwork. His look then changed quickly into a more serious expression. Roche kneeled down at the edge of the grave and looked at the stone in front of him. He breathed in and out slowly, trying not to tear up out of grief, anger and disappointment in himself. 

His expression said “I’m sorry” more than anything else right now. He got up to his feet again and folded his hands, looking down at the grave. 

He tried to steel himself, ignoring the pain in his guts and the knot in his throat, but he couldn’t help feeling like the scrawny kid who wandered the streets of Wizyma in search for scraps of food to bring home all over again. That same kid who had found himself face to face with none other than the King of Temeria while lying in the gutter, beaten up and angry at the world. His voice trembled as he began speaking:

“Sire, it’s me, Vernon. You once told me that a man’s fate lies in his own hands.  
Yet the more I think about it, the more I feel like my hands are worth nothing. Are capable of accomplishing nothing…  
We found your murderer, the Witcher and I…Letho of Gulet was his name, he was a Witcher too. He is no more, Geralt killed him. We avenged your death, and what good did it do? It sure didn’t stop the Black Ones when they decided to take over the North…And Temeria is no more.”

He had to stop for a second, blinking away tears that formed in the corners of his eyes. Roche looked up into the dark blue sky, then back onto the grave and the lilies. Underneath the moonlight they seemed pale blue. 

"My king...My...Father...I failed you, I failed your legacy, your kingdom and its people, and I know you'd tell me not to drown in self-pity, but sometimes it's the only thing I can do! And I….", the commander broke down on his knees, his hands clutching on the gravestone, trying to keep himself up. 

“I want to ask for your forgiveness”, he sobbed. He wasn’t able to hold back his tears anymore, even if he wanted to. 

 

Meanwhile, Geralt heard a patrol coming their way. Through his Witcher senses, he overheard someone mentioning a cemetery. They might have been talking about the other one at the other end of the city, but he didn’t want to risk it. He used Axii once again on the guard and quickly walked through the gate to look for his friend. Geralt didn’t see him at first, only hearing his voice for a bit. When he found Vernon, he was broken down, sobbing in front of a grave. Geralt was taken aback by this display. He never saw Roche getting emotional like that. The Witcher didn’t want to eavesdrop on him, but his Witcher senses made it hard not to hear Vernon talking. Roche didn’t seem to notice Geralt approaching, as he continued speaking to his dead king. Geralt could empathize with him at the moment. He had just lost his mentor, someone who was like a father to him, too. He knew that kind of pain. 

“I want to ask for your forgiveness, Foltest. For what I’m about to say ”, Roche con-tinued speaking, trying to calm himself a little. He still had his grip on the stone as if he lost the strength to even kneel.

“I and… friends…will make a pact with Emhyr. We will trade the entire North for a glimpse of hope of freedom for Temeria. Then he’ll hopefully draw his troops out of Temeria, if we bring him Radovid’s head on a pike. They call him Radovid the Stern but right now, he is Radovid the Lunatic, Sire”, he chuckled a little but his smile faded quickly again.

“I would do anything for a free Temeria. Even if I have to… whore myself out for it. You know that, right?”, Roche had to suppress a sob, “Please, forgive me. For every-thing.”

Roche finally found the strength to get up again and looked around. He jumped a little when he saw Geralt walking towards him on the gravel path. Not even on all the dried leafs he could hear the Witcher approaching. He felt embarrassed that Geralt had seen him like that. Crying and sobbing like a fucking little child. Roche quickly dried the tears off his face with the sleeve of his coat, coughing while doing so, to hide the gesture and his outburst of emotion a few minutes ago.

“Geralt,… how long have you been standing there?”, he asked quietly. His voice was hoarse from crying.

“A few minutes now”, the Witcher said, untouched it seemed by what he had just witnessed. Why would he care for it anyway, Roche thought to himself. He hated getting involved in politics, but… this was more than that for Roche. It was personal. 

Roche nodded, keeping his eyes down. He really didn’t want to look Geralt in the eyes like this.

“There might be more guards showing up. We better leave quickly”, Geralt said. 

They both walked out, side by side. Neither of them spoke a word until they were out of range of the cemetery.

“Want to talk about it?”, the Witcher asked softly. He placed his hand on Roche’s shoulder.

It actually sounded like a good idea. Foltest’s death and the fall of Temeria was weighing on Roche’s shoulders, dragging him down every day. Maybe talking to his friend would help. 

Roche shrugged: “Let’s just get to that inn Ciri mentioned and have a strong drink.”

Roche, still trying to hide his from crying swollen eyes, stomped off in the direction of the tavern. Geralt smiled at the former commander being back to his normal self and quickly caught up with him. The night was cold, the sky clear. Roche was happy he borrowed the cape from Triss otherwise he would’ve gotten cold. He thought about her again. That look she gave him. Like she knew a secret of his. A secret he didn’t even know he had.


	4. Temerian Rye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt decides to drown Roche's sorrows with Temerian Rye

He got shaken out of his thoughts as they entered the tavern. There weren’t many people inside. They all sat on their tables, talking, drinking and playing Gwent. Nobody seemed to care somebody just came in and Roche was grateful for that. He sat down on a table in a corner. It wasn’t very well lit; the candles on the table were blown out. Right now he preferred the darkness. Nobody here needed to know he just cried his eyes out.

Geralt came back from the innkeeper with a bottle of Temerian Rye and two glasses. He placed one glass in front of himself and the other in front of Roche. Then he poured them both in and knocked the first shot back. Looking at Roche, he waited for him to do the same. So he did.

They sat in silence for a while, Geralt looking at Roche and Roche looking at his empty glass. The Witcher poured both of them another shot. 

“Wanna talk about it now?”, Geralt asked calmly. Roche only let out a heavy sigh and then drank his second shot.

“Foltest…He was like a father to me”, Roche began, “He took me in, made me his right hand and I…” He broke off, close to crying again. Geralt put his hand on Roche’s shoulder again to calm him.

“It’s not your fault Emhyr started a war unprovoked. You couldn’t have done any-thing”, the Witcher tried to calm him down.

“But that’s the point”, Roche replied angrily, “I couldn’t do anything to save my country. And now look at me! My country is in shatters, I’m a wanted man and I have to make deals with Redenia and Nilfgaard to get Temeria back! I… I failed him. Failed the whole country…” 

Roche put his face into his hands and sobbed silently. Geralt never saw him that emotional. Aggressive, yes, lots of people have seen Roche being enraged by the smallest things but right now, he showed his real feelings. Geralt stood up quickly, sitting then next to Roche on the bench. He put an arm around the sobbing man’s shoulder. 

“Sshh, Sssh, Vernon. It’s alright. Try to calm down a little. I know how you feel. Well, at least with Foltest. Vesemir… he was like a father to me, too. My mentor. I couldn’t help him in time. That grief you’re going through right now, at least know that you’re not alone with it.” 

Roche, still with his face buried in his hands, leaned into Geralt and nodded. He actually seemed to calm down, Geralt was happy about that. After he wiped his face dry yet again, Roche took his glass and knocked it down, then looked at Geralt, who had his arm still around him.

“I’m glad I could help out at Kaer Morhen. After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do.”

“I’m glad you did help”, said the White Wolf, “I really don’t know how to repay you for that.”

Roche sighed: “I know you don’t like getting involved in politics but would you help again with our little plan?”

“Count on it, Roche.”

Roche smiled at that. The alcohol making his words a bit slurred. 

“And they say Witchers are incapable of emotions” 

He looked into Geralt’s golden eyes, mesmerized by the reflection of in the distant flickering candles. He felt calm for the first time in ages. The Witcher’s hand tightened around his shoulders in a comforting, friendly gesture. It didn’t mean anything, he knew that. It was just camaraderie, nothing more. And still… 

Maybe it was the rye, maybe the events of the war and his failures were finally catching up with his brain and driving him mental, but he felt himself leaning towards the other man ever so slightly, as if his body moved of his own accord. His breath caught in his throat and his heart hammered in his chest. He was pretty sure the Witcher’s heightened senses were making the mutant aware of every single beat of it. 

Geralt, on his part, was still as a stone, although his grip on Vernon’s shoulder hadn’t loosened. Cat-like eyes, irises wider than usual for the lack of light, bore in the doe-like ones of the former commander. The Witcher’s usually impassive façade broke for just an instant giving way to…confusion? Desire? 

“Innkeep, VODKA!”

The shout from one of the tables on the other side of the inn broke the spell that had taken hold of them and they both sat up quickly. Geralt resuming his old place on the chair and acting as if nothing happened. Roche felt his cheeks burn with shame and confusion and anger at himself for his weakness. What the hell was wrong with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the hits and Kudos already ;_; Really means a lot to us!
> 
> If you're interested - we both have a tumblr (filled with shitposts, Witcher stuff and ROCHE)
> 
> http://kawaii-as-fcuk-bunddy.tumblr.com/ (my main blog) 
> 
> http://artofbunddy.tumblr.com/ (my artblog)
> 
> http://aledbr.tumblr.com/ (Aley's blog 8D)


	5. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Roche have to share a bed. What happens next will surprise you!

Ciri couldn't sleep, too bothered by her father's proposal. She decided to drink and maybe have some fun with the other guests. As she came down the stairs, she saw Geralt and Roche leaning into each other. As another man shouted for Vodka, though, they quickly moved away from each other and Geralt even sat on another chair.

She frowned but continued making her way over to the two blushing men. 

“What’s going on here?”, she asked, putting a hand to her hip and smiling cheekily at them.

Geralt looked away, trying to hide his face. Roche coughed into his fist, avoiding her gaze.

“You’re sitting here drinking and having a good time and didn’t even think of inviting me, Geralt?”, she continued.

“We just sat down. Thought you were asleep”, the Witcher answered. His words were also a little slurred due to the alcohol. Witchers can endure a lot more alcohol than humans before actually getting drunk. The Temerian Rye was pretty strong, though.

Roche made room for her on the bench and Ciri sat down next to him. He really wanted to be alone with Geralt right now. Wait. Why would he want that all of the sudden? Geralt and he were friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Why would he suddenly feel… jealousy when Geralt’s kind-of-daughter sat with them? 

“Roche”, she started, “What were you doing with Geralt here actually?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, piercing Roche with her emerald eyes.

He really didn’t want to think about it right then. Roche decided to keep it as secret for now. Right now, the wound was still fresh. He didn’t want to let anyone in on his emotional outburst. Except Geralt, but he didn’t have much of a choice. The Witcher heard and saw him sobbing on the cemetery.

“It’s none of your concern”, he said a little rougher than he wanted it to be. If Ciri was anything like Ves, she would survive it. Roche poured himself another shot and knocked it back.

Ciri was about to ask him more questions, she really wasn’t happy with the answer that Roche gave her. But Geralt nudged her foot to get her attention and shook his head briefly. She understood the sign and didn’t pry any further.

They all drank a little more together, though Geralt didn’t allow Ciri to have much alcohol. Roche had to smile at his friend being an overprotective father to his already grown-up child. Ciri was clearly annoyed she was only allowed 3 shots of the Rye but actually listened to Geralt. Ves would’ve drunk the whole bottle, if Roche were to deny her more than a few shots. Just out of spite.

The hour grew late and they decided to go to sleep. Ciri had already gone upstairs, seeing she had rented her room hours before. The two men went to the innkeep to rent a room each. Roche was a little shaky on his own feet, having to hold onto Geralt for support. It had been ages since he drank Temerian Rye, so it hit him more than usual. 

“Sorry, lads, we only have one room left. The bed should be big for both of you, though”, the inkeep said dryly. 

Geralt groaned, Roche looked down and sighed. They didn’t have another option, so they took the room. 

The Witcher had to almost carry Roche up the stairs into their room. He really had problems standing straight at the moment. Geralt guided him carefully to sit on the bed.

“I’m sorry, Geralt”, Roche slurred a little, “I can still think straight but my legs don’t want the same thing as I do.”

“It’s alright. You had a rough day”, his friend answered calmly. 

They sat on either side of the bed, undressing for the night.

Geralt took off his swords, placed them neatly on the bedside table to have them nearby, in case something happened. Roche did the same with his crossbow and greatsword. 

Finally, Roche could get rid of that stupid cape and hood. He took them both of rather quickly and threw them on a chair that stood near his bedside table. He let out a deep breath and ruffled through his hair. It was short on the sides and the back of his head. On the top, it was a longer. Usually he combed it back when he wore his chaperon, so the loose strands wouldn’t just hang out everywhere from under his hat. On rare occasions when he didn’t wear the hat, he wore his hair a little to the side, creating an asymmetrical look. His hair was a light brown, slowly fading into grey already. Greying in his 40’s felt weird for him. 

“So that’s how you look without your hat on, hm?”, Geralt chuckled from the other side of the bed. 

Roche looked back, wanting to come up with a witty reply but the words in his throat quickly died as he saw the White Wolf in only his underwear. He let out a quick huff of a laugh, then quickly turned around again to hide his obvious blush. Roche looked back at Geralt again for a second. The Witcher was already turned around again and Roche noticed the massive scars he had on his back. Scars he probably got when Roche had him whipped in the dungeons of La Vallette Castle. Regret shot through his stomach and he tried shaking it off. What happened, happened and Geralt never held it against him. Better not to dwell on it.

He went on to take off his coat, quickly followed by his chainmail and his white shirt, folding them neatly on the chair. Then he slipped out of his boots and placed them next to his weapons. He hesitated for a moment, then unbuckled his belt and got out of his pants. He also folded them and put them on the chair on top of his shirt. 

Roche sat back down on the bed, his head spinning a little from the alcohol. He should just go to sleep, he thought to himself. He lied down, covering himself with his half of the blanket. Before he closed his eyes though, he eyed Geralt once again. The Witcher lied on his back, arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, but probably noticing the eyes of the former commander on him. He turned his head towards Roche, whose eyes were as big as dinner plates right now. Geralt was so muscular and full of scars. He couldn’t stop eyeing his friend up and down. It didn’t help that Geralt didn’t even cover himself with the blanket, yet. 

“Roche? Everything alright?”, the Witcher asked a little concerned.

“Yeah, just..”, Roche sighed, “Thank you again. For… everything.”

Roche now also put his hands behind his head, staring onto the ceiling. He was lost in his own thoughts, revising on what happened today. 

Geralt looked at Roche beside him, eyeing him. He’d never thought Roche would be that muscular. Of course, he was the commander of the Blue Stripes, he handed a heavy crossbow and greatsword. His arms were well toned, as well as his chest and stomach. Roche’s chest wasn’t just muscled, but also covered in a layer of dark hair, that went down in a line until it met the waistband of his underwear, where it disappeared. Geralt followed the line of hair until he snapped out of his trance. He blamed his feelings on the alcohol for now and turned on his side to sleep. His back was now facing Roche.

“Good night, Roche”, he yawned and drifted off to sleep.

“Night, Wolf”, Roche replied quietly. He still stared at the ceiling, wondering about the feelings that he had started to develop for his friend. He tried shaking them off and went to sleep, as well.


	6. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche awakes in the middle of the night after a nightmare. Geralt tries to calm him down
> 
> (Soooome NSFW - but nothing too extreme)

Roche’s footsteps echoed in the dark, empty corridors of the La Vallette castle.

The walls crumbled and blackened by the dragon’s fire and the wooden pillars turning to cinders as they burnt. The bodies of both his men and the enemy’s in smoking piles, littered the ground. Even though destruction and waste lay all around him, the air was perfectly still, like crystalized by one of Triss’ spells and he could hear no sound except from his labored breathing and the hurried shuffling of his own boots on the ruined stones. 

He knew where he was heading. And he didn’t want to go. He crossed the bridge where the dragon had almost killed him and hurried up the stairs to the solar. 

That fucking solar. 

He commanded his feet to stop, his legs not to move, but to no avail. 

No. Please, don’t make me see that.

He continued his ascent, but before he could reach the last flight of stairs he felt something warm dripping on his face from above. He didn’t dare to glance up. He knew what it was, even without looking. 

The deep red of blood stained the floor all around him. Its familiar metallic scent invading his mind and making him want to retch. His legs didn’t stop. 

He reached the solar.

King Foltest was standing in a pool of his own blood that kept seeping from the deep gash on his throat. Vernon felt his chest tightening. He stopped breathing; his heart stopped pumping blood in his ears. 

His entire existence crushed and torn apart. He slowly approached his king’s body. Blood soaked the leather of his boots and vest when he knelt beside him. 

He took the body in his arms, lulled it like a sleeping baby. 

He didn’t scream, didn’t have time to, for his king’s hands were suddenly around his throat. 

His eyes now entirely focused on him, malevolent and accusing.

His king’s voice, which he had loved, whose orders he had heeded without hesitation on so many occasions now poured venom in his heart, mercilessly. 

“Worthless”.

”You are worthless, useless. A failure.”

“I should never have bothered with you.“ 

“Failure.” 

“Whoreson.” 

“Whoreson!”

 

“Nooo!” 

Roche awoke screaming in the middle of the night. He sat up straight in a cold sweat, shaking. 

“Roche…. What… What is it?”, Geralt asked sleepily.

“I… I…”, Roche stammered, then started sobbing.

Geralt quickly sat up, put his arm around Roche’s shoulder, holding him close. 

“Nightmare?”, he asked quietly.

Roche only nodded, his face was buried yet again in his hands as he cried silently. Geralt, still with his right arm around Roche, used his left to carefully pull Roche’s hands away from his face.

“Roche”, he spoke, “Roche, look at me.”

The sobbing man did just that, looking at Geralt with his red, swollen eyes. Geralt felt so sorry for him at the time. Roche had lost everything, had to rely on Nilfgaard and Redania as a Temerian patriot now. Without really thinking, Geralt stroked with his left hand over Roche’s cheek, wiping away a tear. 

They found each other staring into the other man’s eyes yet again, hypnotized. Geralt slowly leaned into Roche, who didn’t back away one bit. He gripped Geralt’s hand with both of his own, squeezing slightly as a sign that he should go on. Roche released his hand and stroked over Geralt’s cheek now, their noses almost brushing. They let themselves fall back on the bed, looking into each other’s eyes again. 

Roche’s heart was racing again like it did downstairs. Geralt’s must’ve been hammering; too, he was sure of that. The Witcher reached out for Roche again, carefully brushing a few stray strands of hair out of his face and smiling softly. 

They held each other tight, neither said a word. The only sound in the room was their breathing. Then, within seconds, they leaned into each other more and more, their breathing becoming more labored. 

And then their lips met. 

Both of them were amazed on how it felt. Roche slung his arms around Geralt’s neck, his lips never leaving the ones of the Witcher. Geralt held him tight by his waist. 

Geralt’s lips were so soft and he tasted amazing, Roche thought. Like the Rye they drank hours ago and something else. Something he couldn’t quite make out. Roche moaned lightly and parted his lips, the Witcher’s tongue diving into his mouth, opening him up even more. 

Was that the feeling that followed him around whenever he saw Geralt? Either way, Roche didn’t ever want this to end. 

He felt himself going hard under the other man’s touch and felt a direct response from the Witcher. Roche pressed himself against Geralt’s erection, awaiting a response. 

But the response wasn’t neither what he expected nor wanted.

Because the Witcher drew away, stopping the kiss abruptly and meeting Roche’s confused eyes.

“I… I’m sorry, Roche. It’s just... the alcohol”, he said and let go of Roche slowly. He could see in the Witcher’s eyes that it wasn’t the truth. His irises were wide with lust. Geralt clearly wanted more but… what was stopping him?

Roche decided to play along, though, a little heartbroken.

“Yeah, the… alcohol”, he said hoarsely. His voice was thick with need. Everyone would’ve heard that, so he didn’t think it would’ve gone over his friend’s head.

Friend. Were they truly only friends?

Certainly not after this event.


	7. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after is pretty awkward for both of them...

Roche couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Plagued by thoughts on what had just happened between the two men and images of his nightmares. 

Was it really just the alcohol, like Geralt said? He could’ve sworn there was more behind the Witcher’s actions. There had to be more. There had to be.

Sometimes, he glanced over to Geralt, who seemed to be sleeping like a stone. Not snoring but clearly not awake. 

The Witcher also didn’t sleep again that night. He tried to meditate but the images of Roche wouldn’t get out of his head. Geralt himself initiated the kiss but drew back, because he was with Yennefer now. Destiny bound them together. But he couldn’t deny the things he felt when he looked at Roche. Why would he feel anything for a man? Especially since he was finally together again with the raven haired sorceress.

Roche kept thinking back to the nightmare. Would Foltest really forgive him for making a pact with Nilfgaard? If he were to ever see his king again in the afterlife, if there was one, would he embrace Vernon with open arms or call him a whoreson like he did in the dream? 

He really didn’t want to think about it, but couldn’t help it. The emotions were purely too strong to just ignore them. So much had happened that day, he couldn’t comprehend it all.

Every time Roche closed his eyes, the images of Foltest with his throat sliced were in front of him. The hands of his dead king around his neck again. Roche decided to just stare out the window from his side of the bed. He slowly noticed the sun rising again. Sure that always was a beautiful sight. 

Before he got invested in the sunrise, he got startled by 3 sharp knocks on the door. 

He jumped a little on the bed, looking quickly over to his… to Geralt, who slowly blinked a few times before answering the knock.

“Who’s there?”, he asked sleepily. His voice was a little hoarse. Probably because he just woke up or because of a slight hangover, Roche thought. 

“Geralt, it’s me. When are we leaving?”, Ciri spoke from the other side of the door.

“Now, it seems, seeing you’re already at the door and… awake”, the Witcher answered a little annoyed. He rubbed his hands over his face a few times.  
Their eyes met for a second, though, they quickly turned away from each other again. Too embarrassed about what had happened the night before to look each other in the eye.

Roche decided to just get out of bed and dress, before Ciri jumped into the room and saw them both half naked in the same bed.

Not that anything happened. Or that she would think they did anything. Would she think anything? God, he really hoped not.

He put on his boots and armor, this time, though; he put on his chaperon like he usually would. Fuck the cape, too. He would take it with him to give it back to Triss, if he saw her again, but wouldn’t put it on. If anyone wanted to fight him for showing Temerian colors then they should get their fight. He needed to let some anger out and a fight would do it justice.

At the same time, Geralt did the same. Putting on his armor and weapons, ready to go out. 

Both didn’t say a word to each other as they walked out with Ciri, grabbing food for the journey on their way. 

They picked up the horses from the stables and rode out. Ciri was eager to converse with either of them, but neither Geralt nor Roche said something. They seemed awfully quiet today after such a nice evening in the tavern, she thought. Maybe they were just tired. 

After they got around the main Nilfgaardian camp they came to a stop at a cross-roads. The Bald mountain was South, Novigrad north. 

Geralt and Roche nodded at each other, without really looking at each other.

“Good luck, Wolf”, Roche said. 

And with that, they rode their separate ways.


	8. On the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri and Geralt have a discussion about the nice weather while Roche is getting a downpour.

Roach trotted happily on the uneven terrain of the moor surrounding Crookback Bog. Ciri’s mare too seemed to be enjoying the freedom after being enclosed in the Wyzima stables. A warm southern wind ruffled their manes and made the clouds in the sky speed up north. 

“Roche is going to have a bit of a downpour coming his way”, Ciri commented casu-ally. 

The Witcher acknowledged her with nothing more than a grunt. It had been like this all day. Geralt seemed to be in a particularly sour mood and Ciri grew restless with every passing minute. She felt the tension building for their imminent battle and needed someone to talk to, badly, or she surely as hell would go mad. 

“See, Geralt, instead of fighting it, you should just give into it and enjoy, you know?” 

Geralt snapped out of his musing silence and regarded her as if she had just told him he had grown an additional head. Or two. 

“What? How…? How did you…?”

Ciri narrowed her eyes at his outburst, confusion and amusement painting her deli-cate features. 

“What are you talking about?”   
“The wind. You keep snorting and mumbling every time your hair gets messed up. Give into it and just enjoy it for a moment…What the hell did you think I meant?“

“I…nothing…Let’s speed up a bit”

 

Roche, on the other side of Velen, didn’t have such luck with the weather. As Ciri said, he could expect a downpour. And a downpour he got.

Only minutes after the rain started he was soaking wet. Why was he so stupid and didn’t put the fucking cape over himself?! He gritted his teeth. He was so stupid. 

His horse, luckily, didn’t care about the weather. Didn’t care about Roche either. Why would it? Roche was only fucked up by thoughts of kissing Geralt over and over again. Not just on the mouth, but also… 

Snap out of it, Roche, he thought. He’s your…. He is your best friend. This would only ruin it, right? 

But he really couldn’t forget last night, even if he wanted to. It was just him and Geralt. Holding each other tightly, hands everywhere, the Witcher’s tongue in his mouth. God, how he craved it right now again.

It was growing dark and Roche decided to rest underneath a single tree. He got off his horse, which happily trotted a few meters before lowering its head and munching on the grass. 

He made a small campfire to warm up and tried to dry his still wet coat. Roche didn’t plan on sleeping there. In a few hours, he would jump back on his horse and ride the last few miles to Novigrad. It shouldn’t have been long anymore from his current position. 

He warmed his hands on the fire, looking up into the night’s sky. The stars were glowing, the moon was half full. Again, his thoughts were wandering to Geralt. Especially his well-toned stomach and arms. Roche bit his lower lip, letting out a small sigh. How he wished Geralt would’ve given in to it. But… maybe it was better this way. 

It certainly wasn’t better in Roche’s eyes. But as Geralt said, he was together with Yennefer. At some point, the Witcher mentioned a Djinn, that bound the two of them together by fate. Roche found himself feeling jealous of Yennefer. 

He let his mind wander back to Geralt. His cat-like eyes, which were blown wide by need and lust the night before. His strong arms holding Roche close tight around his waist. And god, how his erection felt against his own. 

He had to stop himself before he made a mess in his trousers. 

Roche sat for another hour at the campfire, forcing himself to think of what was ahead of him in Novigrad, rather than the muscled body of his friend.


	9. The Bath house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche arrives at Dijkstra's bath house. He did not expect to see Geralt there, though...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for so many hits and kudos in such a short time! o: We're losing our shit here omg xD
> 
> (If you wanna visit us - check out aledbr and kawaii-as-fcuk-bunddy on tumblr btw)

Roche arrived a few days later, rather than only half a day, in Novigrad. He decided before he made his way to the city to pick Ves and some of his men up from the camp. He headed to the meeting by himself, though. It was early in the morning, the shops just opening and people came out of their homes to buy food, drink and other things they may needed. He left his horse at the stable and made his way to Dijkstra’s bathhouse. 

He wanted to quickly make his way through Hierarch Square, his cape covering his Temerian colors once again. 

As he crossed Hierarch Square there were two elves being burnt at the stake. A massive crowd was cheering at the Mage Hunters, who looked like they just burnt the most dangerous monster in the whole of Velen. 

When he was still commander of the Blue Stripes, hell, when they were still alive, he would’ve killed elves without batting an eye. But the elves he killed were (mostly) criminals. Scoia’tael. He had to do it to save his kingdom from terror. 

But this right here was just… wrong. These elves only wanted to live in peace with humans and nonhumans alike. Mage Hunters only executed them as kind of a scapegoat after the mages fled the city. They burnt sorcerers, alchemists and herbalists because of their wealth and what did Triss tell him in Kaer Morhen?

“It takes three things to win a war: Coin, coin and even more coin.”

 

Roche quickly walked away, not looking at the poor burning bastards anymore. 

As he arrived at the bathhouse, he didn’t find what he expected. 

The doors were off their hinges, Dijkstra’s henchmen fleeing outside, screaming and almost running him over. He heard yelling and the sounds of steel against steel. A fight. 

Roche quickly took his crossbow and stormed inside, ready to face whoever or whatever was threatening his operation.

“STOP THAT WENCH FROM DESTROYING MY BATHHOUSE!”, he heard Dijkstra scream at somebody. 

As he arrived, he saw Geralt fighting… Sigi’s own men? And Triss was there, too? And… Philippa Eilhart making her way through the house to Dijkstra’s underground tunnel. And of course, Geralt was going after her.  
“What the hell is happening here?”, he shouted over to Triss. 

“Philippa is trying to kill Dijsktra! She’s turned his own men against us with a spell and I can’t get rid of it! We have to kill the rest before they go after Geralt!”, the sorceress yelled back.

Roche was very confused on what exactly was happening at the moment but, if it meant he could let all of his frustration out on rogues, who didn’t deserve any better, then he was ok with that right now. 

He aimed his crossbow at one of the men, shooting him directly between the eyes. Triss hit another with a fireball, setting him aflame and he dropped dead shortly after, burnt to a crisp. 

The fight went on for only a few minutes; luckily there weren’t many of Sigi’s men left after Geralt already cleaned the place up. 

Roche, still perplexed, put his crossbow on his back again and turned to Triss.

“I’m going after Geralt”, he said determined. 

Just as he wanted to walk past the red haired sorceress, she stopped him.

“No way. Philippa is a very powerful sorceress and it’s way too dangerous for you down there.”

“Exactly why I’m going down there. Geralt needs my help”, he barked back. He gave her a look he would give those who he intended to intimidate but it failed on Triss, as she didn’t move out of his way.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry about Geralt”, she said softly with a smile. Again that knowing look on her face, “He only wants to talk to Philippa because we need her help.”

“Why on earth would you need her help?!”, he yelled. The fight itself clearly wasn’t enough to build down his frustrations from the past days. 

“I’ll tell you once this is over, alright? Let’s just keep watch that there won’t be any guards showing up”, she said calmly. She stayed nice, even though Roche just yelled his lungs out at her. 

She still had that look on her face. What did she want from him? Anyway, Roche let his shoulders relax a bit and nodded.

“Fine”, he growled. 

The two of them walked out the door… or what was left of it, anyway, already greeted by guards approaching the bathhouse.

“What is going on here?”, one of them asked.

“Just a little fight that got out of hand. You know how it is”, Triss began, “Lots of beautiful, naked women and the men are fighting for them.”

The lie wasn’t good, Roche thought, but the way Triss emphasized on the women in there, the guards had already other things in their minds. She waved them off and they actually walked away again. Roche was surprised. He looked at her, wanted to compliment on her persuasion skills but he couldn’t get a word out, when he felt the ground underneath them rumbling.

Geralt. Underground. You have to go before you fail him, too.

“I’m going down there, fuck this”, he hissed, turned around and sprinted in the bathhouse.

“Vernon! Stop it for fucks sake!”, the sorceress yelled after him. She couldn’t catch up with him. He had a heads start and was almost halfway through the bathhouse. 

Luckily, he was stopped by Dijkstra, as he was just about to jump down the underground tunnel.

“Roche, stop acting like a bloody dog in heat!”, he shouted at him.

“Fuck off, or I’ll break your leg!”

“Too late. Your lover already did that a few years ago”, Dijkstra chuckled. Of course he didn’t know what had happened between him and the Witcher... or did he? No, that wasn't possible...although Dijkstra did have eyes and ears everywhere. 

“What?! Nothing hap---“, he was just about to shout at the former Redanian spy as his words died in his throat.

Geralt ascended the ladder, followed by Philippa Eilhart. If Geralt weren’t unharmed, he would’ve jumped at her, driving his hunting knife into her chest. For now, he only clenched his fists and jaw.

“See, Roche”, Dijkstra said in jest, “your Geralt is unharmed. No need to make such a scene here.”

Roche’s eyes went wide, looking at Sigi, then back to Geralt, whose eyes were also as wide as dinner plates. When their eyes met, though, both their expressions softened, greeting each other with a soft smile. 

“Deepest apologies. But the lady will come with me now”, Dijkstra said.

“Dijkstra, I don’t have time for this. Get out of my way”, the Witcher answered annoyed.

“I’ve no quarrel with you, Geralt. But Phil and I have lots to talk about…”, he turned to Philippa and continued, “Remember the assassins you sent after me, darling Phil? A grave error. Such matter ought to be handled personally. As I willl now demonstrate.”

“Not gonna demonstrate a damned thing. I need her”, the Witcher snapped at Sigi.

“And I don’t give a flying fuck”, he replied with a wide hand gesture, then leaned more towards Geralt, “I’ve awaited this moment forever, so, very sorry, but I care as much about your plans as I do about the snows of Mahakam. Philippa will come with me. And answer all the courtesies she’s paid me.”

Their argument went on and on and on. Roche and Triss stood a bit further away, waiting for them to finish. 

“Mind telling me now why you need Philippa so badly?”, Roche asked quietly.

“We need the Lodge of Sorceresses to defeat the Wild Hunt on the Skellige Isles. Through their magic we can keep their longship from teleporting.”

“Hmpf. You can’t just beat the Hunt with magic alone, can you? A well-oiled crossbow does the job too against them, you know?”

“Offering your help?”, Triss replied with a hint of amusement in her voice. 

Roche looked away, shifting a bit on his feet.

“Geralt needs all the help he can get, Triss. I am not willing to let him fight alone against a whole army of… Elves and their Hounds”, he replied, trying to sound as dry as possible. 

 

“Geralt, get her out of here before I burst a testicle!”, they heard Dijkstra say to the Witcher, “And then we must meet with our mutual friends. I’ve leased a warehouse portside. Be sure to come.”

And with that, he was off on his way to the warehouse he just mentioned. 

“Philippa, are you alright?”, Triss approached her.

“Hello Triss, I’ve been better”, the other sorceress replied. She seemed a little uneasy. Not unusual, seeing she was this close to being exposed to Dijkstra’s wrath.  
“Let’s get you out of here”, Triss said in her calm, caring voice and teleported them both away. 

That left the two men alone in the half-destroyed bathhouse.

They looked at each other, not really knowing what to say or how to deal with the situation at all. 

Roche decided to break the silence.

“So, mind telling me about this… Sabbath… thing Ciri kept talking about? How is she, actually?”, he asked quietly, looking to the ground. 

“You know the guy who killed Vesemir, Imlerith?”

Roche nodded. They sat down on the edge of one of the pools. 

“Ciri wanted revenge. And through Avallac’h, the elven sage, she found out that Imlerith seeks out this Sabbath. He likes to, well, let’s say copulate with the Crones. I couldn’t let her try to fight Imlerith, though, so I went after him, and she killed the Crones. There won’t be another Sabbath. But the good thing is, that Velen isn’t No Man’s Land anymore. I guess.”

“That’s good then. I guess”, Roche replied a while after Geralt stopped talking. Why was it so hard to talk to his best friend all of a sudden? Because of one kiss? One perfect kiss? 

“Uhm….”, Geralt started awkwardly, “How… How was… the weather on your journey?”

Roche quirked an eyebrow. The weather? Really?

“It started raining heavily. Got soaking wet after mere minutes”, he replied, trying to hide his disappointment, that Geralt didn’t mention their night at the Inn.

They sat there, again, in silence, not knowing what to say. Roche decided to just fuck it and ask Geralt about their kiss.

“Geralt, about that night, I..-“

“It was a mistake”, the Witcher interrupted him. His tone was sad, though, his expression was calm, emotionless. 

Roche’s expression said it all. He was devastated. It didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt so right. So, so right. He wanted to do it over and over and over again. Roche looked at Geralt, with a heartbroken expression, the Witcher meeting his glance with sad eyes.

“We…”, Roche started, “We should meet with Dijkstra and Thaler.”

“I’ll meet you there, got something else to do before.”

Roche nodded and was on his way, his shoulders heavy.


	10. Reason of State

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche and the rest of the super-secret-squad are planning on how to assassinate Radovid
> 
> (Sorry it's such a short chapter, another one will follow tonight ;3 )

Geralt looked at the back of the Temerian commander while he walked away and rubbed his weary eyes. He really didn’t know what to make of the whole damn situation. 

Sure, he had blamed the alcohol for the...incident…but he couldn’t stop feeling guilty and confused about it. And as much as he wanted to forget it ever happened he couldn’t deny he had caught himself thinking about his friend’s warmth and his lips many times in the last few days. 

“I’m too old for this”, he mumbled to himself as he got up.

He left Ciri at the Golden Sturgeon with her friend an hour later and headed towards the warehouse.  
As he was being ushered inside by one of Dijkstra’s henchmen, he could hear Vernon’s voice drifting towards him from above together with Thaler’s rougher, slurred one. 

“He’s ploughing late, that’s what he is!”, he heard the Temerian “cobbler” complain.

Geralt sat at the table and looked at the three men gathered there, as Dijkstra begun to explain to a very pissed Thaler how exactly he had managed to involve Philippa bloody Eilhart in their plans. 

Former spies, elite commandos, royal advisors, men who had lost everything they had with the war, and now desperate enough to risk their necks (and Geralt’s) on what seemed very much like a suicide mission. How the hell did he get involved into politics again? He glanced at Roche, casually leaning against the wall while the Redanian talked. 

Radovid was mad and had to be neutralized, in one way or another, but if he was really honest with himself, the only reason he was here was because he didn’t really wish to see Roche burning on a stake as a traitor.

Dijkstra interrupted his thoughts. 

“Geralt…Do I recall correctly that Radovid’s hired you to find Philippa?” 

The Witcher nodded. 

“What of it?” 

“Radovid expects you to report to him…You only have to mention her name, that you know where to find her…” Dijkstra continued.

“Oh, he’ll swallow that. Hook, line, sinker and a good bit of the rod as well!” concluded Thaler for him. 

“No”, Roche intervened, “That is too risky, if he as much suspects you are lying to him he’ll-“

“Let’s say he bites” Geralt cut him off abruptly, ”What then?” 

Dijkstra threw Roche a sideways glance, then continued his explanation. “You’ll tell him where to find Philippa, somewhere where we can easily set a trap…” 

“Bridge to Temple Isle, it’s easy to cut off from the rest of the city”, suggested Thaler.

Geralt felt Roche’s eyes burning into him, the Temerian’s expression darkened. 

“I’ll divide my men; post half on one end, other half on the other. And in the middle, Ves, with a well-oiled crossbow. You try not to die.”


	11. The bridge to Temple Isle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Reason of State Sidequest! 
> 
>  
> 
> Roche and Geralt fight their way across the bridge to Temple Isle to kill Radovid.

On the bridge, Roche and his men were just dividing the groups in north and south, as Roche caught a weird feeling in his gut. 

"Something's not right", he said and ran off to the south end of the bridge. 

"Roche, where the hell are you going?!", Ves shouted after him. 

"Just do as I said before! North and South groups and you're in the middle!" 

And he was off. Ves stood there, perplexed. Her commander acted strangely since he came back from Kaer Morhen, or wherever he was with the Witcher.

Please be wrong, please be wrong, he thought to himself. He had the feeling the Witcher was in danger and that was the last thing he wanted right now. Radovid was crazy, didn’t think straight anymore. He knew that little shit would kill men for less than looking at him the wrong way. And with Geralt’s attitude sometimes, he couldn’t be sure the Redanian king would just walk with him over the bridge. 

He arrived at the south end, hiding behind a wall, ever so slightly peeking behind a corner and he saw Geralt. The White Wolf was surrounded by five of Radovid’s men.

“Any last words?”, one of them asked, ready to slice Geralt’s throat. The Witcher didn’t even flinch when the Redanian lifted his sword.

And then he fell. 

Roche shot a crossbow bolt right into the guard’s back, instantly killing him. 

“Don’t you DARE hurt him!”, he yelled and charged at the surprised Redanians, his greatsword drawn. 

Geralt smiled, then elbowed the guard behind him hard in the ribs, knocking him to the ground. He quickly evaded incoming attacks and grabbed his swords, drawing the steel one and slicing one man’s throat. 

“How did you know?”, the Witcher asked while parrying a strike of a mace.

“Call it intuition, Wolf, but let’s get rid of these whoresons first before we continue this talk”, Roche replied with a cheeky smile. 

They chopped Radovid’s men down like they were nothing. Roche turned around to face Geralt, unaware of one guard, trying to hit a final blow. 

“Roche, watch it!”, Geralt shouted and pulled him down to him, casting the Quen sign around the two. 

The half-dead man hit the shield; it sent an electrical shock through his sword into his arm and the rest of his body, finally killing him. He fell to the ground, next to his comrades. 

“That was close… Thank you, Geralt”, Roche said, the yellow shield still surrounding them. 

“After your rescue, I think we’re even”, Geralt chuckled. 

They then realized how close they were crouching next to each other. 

That feeling came back. Like in the Inn. Roche could’ve sworn he felt Geralt’s body heat from where he was, even through their armor. 

Without really being aware of their actions, they found themselves leaning into each other again. 

Their foreheads were the first to touch, then their noses, which they rubbed at one another.

Fuck it, Roche thought and initiated the kiss. It wasn’t gentle this time. It was teeth and tongue and trying to show the other man how much he wanted him. 

He held Geralt close, stroking a thumb over his cheek, hoping he would give in this time. 

And he did, softly moaning as Roche delved deeper into his mouth with his tongue.

It felt so good, so right; he never wanted this to end. Roche wanted to do more, so much more with the Witcher right now but then…

He remembered where they were. 

And why they were here.

“Geralt”, he said in between kisses, “We still need to kill Radovid, remember?”

The Witcher’s eyes snapped open, irises blown wide with lust.

“Right. Let’s go”, he said, getting back up, drawing Roche with him.

Roche squeezed his hand lightly and nodded, making his way up the bridge. They needed to continue this after the mission was done in the nearest tavern. Or at some street corner even. He didn’t care anymore. 

As they arrived at the north end, they were greeted by corpses of, mainly, Radovid’s men; some of his own were also among them. But they knew the risk. He knew the risk.

Perfect. Radovid was alone and cornered. At least that went according to plan. The desperate king hammered on a door, commanding the person inside to open up.

And Philippa Eilhart herself came out the door, walking towards Radovid. In his eyes, even from afar, Roche could see pure fear washing over him. 

Philippa blew some kind of dust into the Redanian’s eyes, who abruptly started screaming, holding his hands in front of his face. He shuffled around, without any orientation.

“That settles the score”, Philippa said, drawing a dagger from her dress and stuck it right into the king’s back.

“And that was from the heart.”

With that, Radovid was killed. The still warm corpse was held up by his arms by the gate he tried escaping through.

Philippa turned around, facing the two men and Ves, cleaning her dagger off the blood.

“Forgive me, but I could not deny myself the pleasure.”

And with that, she was gone. Turned into an owl and flew away without another word.

“How did she… What? How the FUCK?”, Roche shouted into the night. He looked into the sky, trying to follow the owl but Philippa flew too fast for his eyes to follow.

“Philippa spied on us at the warehouse”, Geralt said with a shrug.

“Well”, Ves said impatient, “What’s done is done. Radovid is dead. It doesn’t matter by whose hands. We should leave. Not too long and the place will be swarming with Redanians.”

They nodded at her and went off to Madame Irina’s theater, where Thaler and Dijkstra should be awaiting them.

The meeting didn’t go exactly as planned. Roche and Thaler revealed him why Radovid had to die. Geralt knew half of it already; he had overheard Roche talking to Foltest at the cemetery in Wyzima. 

He hoped Emhyr would be true to his word, Geralt really didn’t want Roche to suffer any more.

Then Dijkstra came up on the stage all of a sudden. 

“There is no deal”, he stated, “You bargained the entire North in the name of Temeria. I’m not about to let that happen. Redania won’t bow. Ever. Geralt, this doesn’t concern you. You may go…I wish you well on your path or whatnot.” 

Roche felt his heart swell with pride when the Witcher unceremoniously told Dijkstra where he could shove his wishes and drew his sword. The Redanian traitor ordered his henchmen to kill them all. 

Geralt, of course, wouldn't let him do that, charging at every man, who came too close to Roche, chopping their heads off with a clean cut.

As the last one, meaning Dijkstra himself, lay dead, they sat back down again. Thaler was swearing even more than usual. 

“That was close”, Ves said out of breath from the fight, “very close.”

“It’s hardly over”, Roche commented, “The envoy due to meet the Nilfgaardians tomorrow – no doubt Dijkstra ordered him killed. We’ll need to protect him.”

“I’ll do that”, Ves exclaimed, “You keep sending me away, you keep running off on your own or with the Witcher. Now it’s my turn to get some action again!”

Roche looked at her, taken aback, but found himself smiling. She was right, after all. 

“Of course, Ves. You’re right. Take all the men you need and protect him. I know you will pull it off.”

He gave the baffled woman an encouraging smile and nod.

“I won’t let you down. I’ll gather them right now! Thaler, come on, we’ve got a country to save”, she said in a heroic tone.

Roche was glad she didn’t hold his solo-adventures against him. He was proud of her, to be honest. So eager to save and protect Temeria. Once Anais La Valette ruled Temeria, he would want Ves to be commander of the Blue Stripes. She could be hot-headed but he was, too. He thought she was perfect for the position.

Ves and Thaler went out the gate, leaving Geralt and Roche alone yet again.

This time, luckily, it wasn’t awkward. At least not as awkward as before. 

“Wanna come with me to the Chameleon and have a drink with the others?”, Geralt asked with a smile.

Roche was puzzled by the name.

“Chameleon?”

“Dandelion owns the… cabaret, he calls it. It’s basically a fancy tavern with music”, Geralt explained, chuckling. 

Roche nodded, walking alongside his friend to the… cabaret.


	12. Like I was with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche and the others are having a drink at the Chameleon... what happens next is HIGHLY NSFW
> 
> Roche is fucked up, Geralt is fucked up, we're ALL fucked up

Shortly afterwards they arrived, greeted by Dandelion and Zoltan.

“Vernon Roche! Good to see you again”, the bard exclaimed and gave him a firm handshake.

Roche smiled. He knew the bard briefly; he sometimes gave him useful Intel. Zoltan on the other hand, was a skilled Gwent-player. Roche lost count on how many times he had lost against him. During the battle of Kaer Morhen Zoltan also proved to be a skilled fighter. His Mahakam-mix blew dozens of their foes up, as well.

“Greetings, Dandelion”, he said, then looking at the dwarf, “Zoltan.”

“Roche, here to get beaten at Gwent again, eh?” Zoltan asked with a laugh.

“He’s here on business, right, Roche?” Geralt elbowed him discreetly. Roche didn’t know what he meant but played along.

“Exactly. But a beer or two couldn’t hurt, am I right?”

“Beer?” Zoltan shouted as if Roche just insulted his mother, “We’ll drink Vodka together, my friend!”

They all laughed and sat down inside. Roche sat across from Geralt, on his left was Dandelion; across from the bard was Zoltan. Shortly afterwards Ciri, Triss and… Yennefer came down the stairs, greeting the two men.

Yennefer immediately sat next to Geralt, giving him a kiss. Triss sat down to Roche’s right. Ciri settled next to Dandelion. 

“So, how was your adventure in the name of Temeria?”, Triss asked Roche.

He told her almost everything that happened. Obviously he left out the part where Geralt and him were kissing each other with a deep passion he never felt before. As he mentioned Dijkstra’s death, Zoltan said he had it coming. Supposedly cheated him at Gwent. The hour grew late and Roche really couldn’t stand looking at the two lovebirds from across the table anymore. 

“Do you have a spare room for me?” he asked. His voice was slurred; he drank more than he wanted to due to the frustration building in his gut and Zoltan pouring him one shot after the other. 

“Of course”, Dandelion said, also a little slurred, “Let me show you.”

They went upstairs together; his room was on the first floor to the right.

“There we go, Roche. Everything cleaned up and ready for you to sleep in its bed.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Too many shots, I guess”, the bard said and gave him a slap on the back, “Good night, Roche.”

“Good night.”

With that, Dandelion went slowly and carefully down the stairs, leaving Roche alone. He closed the door behind himself and undressed for the night.

Roche hasn’t slept in a proper bed in ages. So much had happened that day, he hoped he would sleep better than the last time in an inn.

When he was with Geralt. In the same bed. Kissing him, feeling him. Geralt’s soft, soft lips, his unusual, but yet interesting, taste. And those arms holding him tight. God, how much he needed him right now. The kiss on the bridge only made his misery worse. 

He laid down on the bed in only his underwear, putting his arms behind is head. Roche would’ve stayed longer downstairs, celebrating a free Temeria, the end of the Witch Hunt and drink himself stupid. But looking at Geralt and Yennefer made him sick. How he wanted to sit next to Geralt. Or even on his lap and what the hell was he thinking again? 

Fuck it, he thought. He needed this now and when would he get some privacy again?

Slowly, he pulled his underwear down; his cock sprang free. God, he was so needy, it was already red and dripping. 

He took it in his hand, lazily stroking up and down his shaft, his thumb brushing over the head, smearing the fluid over it. Roche’s mind wandered back to the Inn and Geralt. This time though, Geralt didn’t pull away. 

His hand moved faster, he was already close to climax but tried edging himself. He could smell the salty fluid leaving his cock and it turned him on even more. If he only got this one chance before going back to the camp then it should be worth his time. 

Roche’s breathing became more labored; his mind was at the bridge. Under the cover of the Quen-shield where he delved deep into Geralt’s mouth, teeth clacking against each other. 

“Aah, god… Geralt”, he moaned through gritted teeth, slowing his hand a bit. His hips were bucking into his hand; he was so, so close.

At the same time, downstairs, Geralt heard Roche say his name. Of course he was the only one to pick the sound up, seeing his Witcher Senses. It sounded like his friend was in pain. Maybe he found a wound he didn’t realize he had? The Witcher should check up on him.

“I think I’ll call it for the night. We got a lot ahead of us tomorrow”, he said has he got up. 

“I’ll join you in a minute”, Yennefer said in a soft tone. 

The others bid him good night and Geralt walked up the stairs, stopping in front of Roche’s room.

Just as he was about to knock on the door, he listened more closely.

He heard Roche moan, but not in pain. In pleasure. Geralt blushed a deep red and held his ear on the door.

“Geralt… Geralt oh god”, he heard Roche whine. 

Was he…? 

The Temerian was jerking off to him. Right now. Behind this very door. Fuck.

Geralt wanted to draw himself away from the oh so sweet sounds Roche was making but couldn’t do it. He needed to hear him climax, sighing his name.

At that moment Geralt realized how fucked up he actually was. He leaned his forehead against the door, closing his eyes. 

Only a few moments later Geralt heard Roche gasp and slumping back on the bed. Fuck, he needed to get away from there. Silently, he walked into his own room, trying to sleep the feelings in his gut off.


	13. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has to prepare to set out to Skellige and Roche needs to go to Wyzima...

Roche was the second to wake up. He sleepily put on his clothes, chaperon and weapons. With a small hangover, he made his way downstairs, where Geralt was already sitting, with his back towards him and eating.

“Morning, Roche” he mumbled, without looking up from his bowl of stew.

“Morning, Geralt” the perplexed man replied, “How did you know it was me?”

“Heard it from your footsteps.”

Roche got himself a bowl of stew and sat next to Geralt. 

“Right, your famous Witcher senses. I bet you could hear me breathe from a mile away, too”, he said with a smirk and took a first bite. 

“What? No. I would never… I mean…. Nevermind” the Witcher replied hastily, almost stumbling over his own words. He quickly shoved the spoon into his mouth to stop himself from talking.

Roche quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on it any further.

“So, Geralt. Now that you have the Lodge, or what’s left of it anyway, on your side, what do you plan to do? Triss mentioned something with drawing the longship of the Wild Hunt out and keeping it from teleporting away?”

Geralt hummed in agreement.

“Exactly. Then, with the help of the Nilfgaardian army, I will go after Eredin. Try to finish what we started at Kaer Morhen. If he dies, Ciri can finally be free. Nobody pursuing her, trying to use her powers for their own shit. It’s gonna be a tough battle. Might not even make it out alive. But as long as Eredin lies dead, I can die a happy man.”

“What?! Don’t say things like that! I’ll come with you and make sure these whoresons are dead before they can get off their ship” Roche spoke determined. 

“That’s really not necessary, Roche. I’ll manage. I got the Nilfgaardian army and Skellige’s warriors behind me. If you were to come with me, it’d only put you in danger and I don’t want that” he realized how sappy he must’ve sounded, “Besides… now that Temeria is going to be free again, you got a lot of politics ahead of you. Someone has to be Anais’ right hand, right?”

Roche looked into his now half empty bowl. He wasn’t so sure about the Nilfgaardian army and some Skelligers helping Geralt in battle against the Wild Hunt. But the Witcher had a point. Someone had to be Anais’ right hand. 

“I suppose you’re right”, he sighed.

Geralt got up and took his bowl to put it away for Dandelion’s cook to clean it later. Roche also stood up again, waiting for the Witcher to turn around.

“So this might be our last goodbye, Wolf” he said quietly. He tried to hide his emotions, he really did. But he couldn’t help but sounding like a lovesick young woman. Afraid never to see Geralt again.

“I guess so.”

They stood in front of each other, not knowing what to do. Suddenly Roche stepped closer and embraced Geralt in a big hug. 

His arms were around Geralt’s neck, Geralt’s were around his waist. Just like in the inn, oh god, the inn. How he would miss his friend. 

Roche turned his head ever so slightly, letting his lips linger on the other man’s neck. It wasn’t a kiss, not even a light peck. Just a sign that he didn’t want to let go. On that, Geralt hugged him tighter, almost squeezing the air out of the slightly smaller man. They both let out a deep sigh, but Geralt quickly drew away again, as he heard someone coming downstairs. 

“Farewell, Wolf”, Roche said with sad eyes and walked out the Chameleon. Didn’t even look at Triss coming downstairs.

“My, my” she started with a sly smile, “Somebody was eager to cuddle with you.”

“Triss, we were just saying goodbye. That might’ve been the last time we saw each other.”

“I saw the way you looked at each other, Geralt” she laughed.

“Triss. Do you want to share a cabin with Philippa on the boat?” the Witcher snapped back annoyed.

“I didn’t say anything” she lifted her hands in defeat.

 

As soon as the others were awake, they all sat around and discussed on what Geralt had to do before they could get to Skellige.

He had to free Margarita from the prison in Oxenfurt. Luckily (… or unfortunately) Yennefer teleported them to Oxenfurt, saving them at least half a day of going by horse. In the prison, he found the beaten up Margarita Laux-Antille . 

Yennefer could only teleport the beaten up woman and herself out of there; Geralt fought his way outside and rode back to Novigrad. 

The journey took him half a day, just as he had predicted. Still, on the same evening, he and Ciri wanted to pay Whoreson Junior a visit.

“Whoreson’s dead. Killed him myself” he said to Ciri.

“Apparently not. He’s got his business right here” she argued.

He sighed and trotted after her. Inside the building, they didn’t meet the actual Whoreson, though. It was their Doppler-friend Dudu, who shifted his shape into the man. 

He explained to the confused pair, that he, as Whoreson Junior, saw the Light of the Eternal Flame and used his reputation to do good now, rather than ruling the underworld with the other bosses.

They wished him well, told him to visit them once they were back from their journey and with that, Ciri and Geralt were on their way again.

Back at the Chameleon, Geralt and Avallac’h discussed how they were going to bring Ge’els to Novigrad. 

On the next day, they set off through the first portal into another world. But getting Ge'els proved harder than he thought. He travelled with (and without) Avallac'h through different worlds. Dangerous worlds, as well. In one he was completely underwater; in the next there were thousands of red plants that sprayed poisonous gas at him. When he finally met Avallac’h again, he was in a world full of ice. The Sage told him, it was actually the future of their own world, after the White Frost hit them. 

Geralt was relieved when they finally arrived in Tir ná Lia. Ge’els surprisingly agreed to come with them.

Back in Novigrad, they had Corinne Tilly, an Oneiromancer, help them dream Eredin murdering the Aen Elle’s former king. Ge’els agreed to aid the Witcher and his friends. If the Wild Hunt would call for reinforcements during the fight, no Aen Elle would answer.

Geralt was relieved, as well as the others. Avallac’h brought Ge’els back to Tir ná Lia and he found himself thinking about Roche again.

He couldn’t wait to tell Roche about his travel through… right. He was probably on his way to Wyzima by now. Rushing to his new queen’s side. The Witcher thought he needed to pay him a visit once this was all over. If he survived, that is.


	14. Outburst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt & Co. are setting off to Skellige but not without the Witcher's knight in shining armor

The docks were bursting with life in the late afternoon. Barges carrying shipments of food and weaponry for the war were being loaded by heavily tattooed thugs. Fishing ships returned to the port to unload their nets and merchants shouted their prices out loud to try and catch the customer’s attention. 

Geralt made his way through the crowded streets towards the ship Avallac’h had hired for their journey. He spotted Yen, Rita, still battered up from her imprisonment and Philippa, standing in a nook facing the pier and apparently deeply immersed in conversation.

He felt a bit uneasy when he heard Margarita mentioning the name “Fringilla” and memories of the green-eyed sorceress in very inappropriate positions shot through his brain. He really didn’t need to remember that right now. 

He joined them and was immediately taken aside by Yennefer. 

“Already plotting something?” he asked. 

“It’s clearly in our nature…”, the sorceress replied. 

“What was that bit about Fringilla?” 

“It seems Emhyr “forgot” to mention he has her imprisoned. Rita was the last to see her, before she went to meet the Emperor. No one has been able to contact her since then. I don’t like that.”

They headed towards the ship. The captain barked orders around, preparing the ship to sail. He went towards Ciri and Triss who stood near the starboard rail and greeted them warmly. It seemed Ciri had calmed down after her outburst against the sorceresses, merely an hour before. 

He was just about to ask her how she felt, when Triss suddenly elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Seems you forgot to mention your knight in shining armor was coming, too.” 

“What? What knight…?”

Geralt turned around to where Triss was looking and his heart did a triple flip in his chest. Vernon Roche was standing on the pier.

“Roche! What the hell are YOU doing here?” he asked as he walked towards the other man, who had just come aboard. He tried to suppress a smile, but Roche’s smirk made it very hard. 

“You didn’t really think I would let you face the Hunt without me, did you?“ Roche moved to shake his hand but Geralt pulled him into a hug that made the Temerian’s ears suddenly feel very hot. He thanked the gods for his ever present chaperon, which spared him the humiliation.

“I guess we’ll have to rearrange our accommodations… No way I’m sleeping in a bed with Roche tonight” commented Triss, with a slightly amused tone in her voice.

Roche shot her a sideway glance but didn’t care about it further. Right now, he was just happy to be with Geralt again.

After a short discussion, Yen suggested that Triss could sleep with her in one bed, so Roche and Geralt could share a cot. They agreed but both of the men got a little annoyed when the red haired sorceress giggled like a little girl. Yen didn’t seem to notice, though. 

They set sail shortly afterwards. Roche was glad he could share a bed with the Witcher; he hoped Geralt felt the same way. But the anticipation that was building up in his stomach died quickly, as he saw Yennefer kissing Geralt with great passion. 

He turned his back towards the happy couple, looking over the railing onto the sea. Was it sea-sickness that made his stomach turn or was it jealousy? He didn’t know. Roche turned his head a little to see the sorceress going below deck with Geralt. Now there was also anger that mixed itself with jealousy. 

Why was he so stupid, thinking Geralt would actually mean it serious with him? He clearly was madly in love with the raven haired sorceress. Roche found himself pacing, nervous about sharing a bed with a man he could never be together with anyway. 

Just as he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Triss came up to him with that cheeky smile of hers. 

“Well, Knight in shining armor”, she started with a chuckle “How do you feel about Geralt’s hot embrace today?”

Roche’s face must’ve been red like a tomato, his eyes were widening in shock.

“Hot embrace?! Just because we’re sharing a bed doesn’t mean that ---“

He was interrupted by Triss’ outburst of laughter. She needed a moment to get her breathing back under control, then continued in a giggly voice.

“No, Roche, I meant when he hugged you. Oh god what did you think I was suggesting?”

“The hug is just how… how men hug. Temerian style”, he said, trying to sound as dry as possible. Roche quickly turned around to face the sea again to hide his reddened cheeks. 

But Triss wasn’t done teasing him, yet. She leaned over the railing with him, looking at the man to her right.

“You know, since you both came back from Wyzima, you’re acting pretty strange around Geralt. Or is that just me?”

“I haven’t changed my behavior in front of Geralt at all, you’re just delusional!” he snapped back, hot white anger overtaking him slowly.

“Ciri mentioned something, too, though. You were awfully close when you stayed the night in Wyzima. Even shared a bed together. Roche, be honest, are you in love?”, she teased on.

That was it. Roche didn’t need to hear any more. In his commanding tone he roared.

“I only needed Geralt for the sake of Temeria! I’m only repaying the favor by aiding him against the Wild Hunt! He’s just an asset. Nothing more and! Nothing! Less! Did you understand me?!”

“Alright, alright. I won’t poke any further”, she said with wide opened eyes, surprised that the commander shouted at her like that. 

Seems like I hit a nerve, she thought to herself and went to the other side of the boat, talking to Avallac’h. 

 

Geralt closed the door to Yen’s cabin softly, leaving the raven haired sorceress to her papers and moved towards the ladder that led on the deck. He was just about to open the door when Roche’s angry voice reached his ears and made him stop in his tracks. 

“I only needed Geralt for the sake of Temeria! I’m only repaying the favor by aiding him against the Wild Hunt! He’s just an asset. Nothing more and! Nothing! Less! Did you understand me?!” 

Geralt liked to think human emotions didn’t really affect him like a normal person. That his mutations allowed him to be far above feelings like disappointment, or sadness. Of course he had been proven wrong so many times in his life, especially after meeting Ciri…But still, he liked to maintain a mask of stoicism and imperturbability towards life. 

A mask that was now crumbling like the remains of Vesemir's funeral pyre the morning after the battle. The hand that held the handle of the door trembled slightly and his heart dropped below his feet.

An asset. An instrument. A tool. To be used and discarded when he wasn’t needed anymore. Was he really so foolish as to think someone like Roche would actually consider him a friend? Geralt the Freak? When would he fucking learn? Anger flared inside him like fire. Anger at himself for being such an idiot, for feeling betrayed, hell, for feeling anything at all! 

He retreated from the stairs, not really wanting to see anyone right then and slammed the door to his cabin. Just moments afterwards that same door opened again and the very object of his feelings entered the small cabin. Oh. Right. How could he forget that he had to share a bed with him? Fuck, this was just perfect. 

„Oh, you’re already here“ Roche said. 

Geralt grunted and turned away from the door to face the small porthole on the other side of the room. 

„Everything alright?“, the other man insisted. 

He didn’t bother to utter a reply. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He clenched his jaw as he began to undress. 

„Are you su-?“ He felt the other’s hand touch his shoulder lightly and just snapped. 

„Don’t fucking touch me!“ 

He turned to the Temerian, who looked like someone had just smacked him across the face. 

„The hell is wrong with you Geralt?!“ 

Geralt’s bitter, angry laugh made Roche’s eyes widen in disbelief and confusion. 

„You really think you can keep fooling me like this? I thought…I believed you were my friend, that you actually cared…that you…It doesn’t matter anymore. I was sorely mistaken. Apparently I am just an ASSET“ 

„Oh for fuck sake, you heard that?!“ 

He held Vernon’s gaze as the Temerian spoke. 

„How can you believe I actually THINK what I told Triss?!“ 

„I don’t know, Roche, it seems you are ready to do anything for Temeria. Even WHORE YOURSELF OUT.“ 

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He knew how much they would hurt Roche. He knew how much they meant, given what had happened between them. The silence that fell in the cabin was heavy. Geralt could hear Vernon’s ragged breath as the man looked at him in disbelief. 

Angry tears were forming in the Temerian’s eyes. The former commander of the Blue Stripes turned on his heels, determined to leave the cabin, but Geralt’s hand grabbed him when he was mere inches from the door.


	15. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the drama from the last chapter, will Geralt and Roche ever find happiness again? 
> 
> Who knows....
> 
> Well, you will know as soon as you start reading ;3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy SHIT you guys, over 700 hits after only a week?! You're crazy!
> 
> I didn't know people were still thirsty for some good ol' GeraltxRoche
> 
> We need a ship-name for them - if you have suggestions then tell aledbr and me (kawaii-as-fcuk-bunddy) on tumblr 8D

“Let go of me!!”, Roche struggled to get out of the Witcher’s grip but to no avail. Geralt held him tightly by his wrist.

The taller man turned Roche around and pushed him with his back against the wall, staring into his eyes.

“Roche, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that”, Geralt whispered, his expression sad and full of regret. 

Roche’s expression softened at the sight of Geralt’s sadness. 

They were forehead to forehead, looking at each other with half-lidded eyes.

“You really didn’t mean what you said to Triss?”

“Of course not”, Roche chuckled bitterly, “I’d give my fucking life for you. Why do you think I came onto this damned boat in the first place?”

And with that Geralt flashed a short smile and invaded Roche’s lips with his own. He released the Commander’s wrist to draw him in closer, holding him flush against his chest. Roche swung his arms around Geralt’s neck, opening his mouth and letting the Witcher’s tongue dive deep into it. 

After what felt like an eternity they drew away to catch their breath. Their pupils blown wide with need. Roche really wanted to do more. He wouldn’t let Geralt get out of this cabin until he got his will, he swore to himself.

Before Geralt could kiss him again, Roche stopped him, though. It was so hot in this room all of a sudden, that he needed to get out of his chaperon and coat. Geralt bit his lip as Roche ruffled through his brown hair, trying to set it in place with his fingers. 

The commander urged Geralt on to do the same. He got the hint, taking out his hairband that held his mane in a ponytail. He let his hair flow around his shoulders to show off to Roche. The Witcher smirked. Roche stopped halfway through taking off his chainmail to admire his long white hair. 

Then they clashed together again, Roche biting softly in Geralt’s lower lip, eliciting a small moan as they devoured each other. The Witcher pressed himself hard against Roche, feeling his erection through his thin trousers. 

“God”, Geralt sighed, as he unbuttoned Roche’s white shirt.

“Geralt, please”, Roche moaned quietly, “I want you. So much. Since we’ve been in Wyzima together.”

Geralt moaned in approval, kissing the Temerian’s neck. 

“And Geralt?”

“Yes?”

“If you just so much as think to draw away again I’ll kill you”, Roche breathed with a smirk on his lips.

“That won’t happen. I promise”, the Witcher replied, smirking as well. 

On that, Roche basically ripped the swords off of Geralt’s back, putting them aside. The White Wolf gave him one last kiss before getting out of his armor. Roche got out of his pants and boots as well, admiring Geralt’s form while doing so.

Roche, now only in his way too tight underwear sat down on the bed, eagerly awaiting what was to come. Geralt crawled onto the small cot with him, settling above the smaller man. 

The Witcher, now lying on top of Roche, took a second to eye him up and down. 

Roche’s chestnut eyes were half opened; his pupils wide. His cheeks were deep red, lips swollen from all the kissing. The Temerian’s hair was messy; Geralt found it cute and smiled at Roche, who gave him a smile back. 

Geralt moved lower, drawing his lips softly over the hair on Vernon’s chest down his stomach. He stopped once he was at the waistband of his underwear. He hesitated at first, seeing it was his first time with a man. But as he looked at Roche’s lustful gaze, all his skepticism about that was forgotten for now. He slowly took Vernon’s underwear off, revealing his hard cock.

“You know, Vernon”, he started as he slowly took Roche’s erection in his hand, pumping it up and down slowly, “I heard you that evening at the Chameleon.”

Roche’s hips snapped up. He wanted to reply but couldn’t. The only sounds coming out of his mouth at that moment were moans and sighs.

“Heard you jerking off, and moaning my name”, he whispered into the other man’s ear, “That was so hot. Was so close to just coming into your room and take you.”

“Geralt”, Roche whined, “if you don’t stop I’ll be finished in no time, haaaah…”

“We got aaaall night”, the Witcher replied, sucking on Roche’s neck and biting softly.

Roche clung to Geralt’s shoulders, his hips snapping violently against the Witcher’s hand, wanting more, needing more. He was so so close.

“Geralt, please”, Roche breathed.

“Come for me, Vernon”, the Witcher whispered into his ear.

And with a shudder and a last thrust of his hips, Roche came apart in three hard spurts. Geralt stroked him through the afterglow until his cock was over-sensitive. He took a good few minutes to control his labored breathing again. Just as he tried to take a deep breath through his mouth, Geralt’s sticky fingers invaded him.

“Come on, Vernon. Clean your mess up”, the Witcher smirked.

This was so wrong, Geralt thought, but it felt so good. Was he cheating on Yennefer? Yes, definitely. But, was he truly in love with her? He wasn’t sure anymore after the events in Wyzima, on the bridge to Temple Isle and, well, now. When Roche licked his fingers clean of his own release, Geralt forgot all that. He wanted Roche. More than anything else right now. And forever. 

“Get on your back, Geralt”, Roche suddenly spoke, “I want to…. uuh…return the favor.” 

Normally, his tone would be commanding but right now, he was just a horny mess, already half hard again from tasting his own cum on Geralt’s fingers.

Nevertheless, Geralt moved to lie on his back, Roche slowly kissing down his chest and stomach. He caressed every little scar he came across with his lips. Geralt hummed in approval.

When Roche finally reached Geralt’s underwear, he slowly pulled it off and tossed it to the side, taking in the sight of the Witcher’s hard cock. He looked Geralt in the eyes and then they both realized…

They’d never done anything like that with another man. How do you go down on a man? How do you even fuck one? 

“Uhm”, Roche stuttered, “I’ve never, well… done this before.” 

“Just… uhhh… take it in your mouth and lick around?”, Geralt said shyly with lustful eyes, adoring the sight of Roche.

Roche took the Witcher’s cock into his mouth. It tasted weird. Salty and musky. But it turned him on even more. He moved his tongue around the head, eliciting a moan from Geralt. The Temerian hollowed his cheeks, taking as much of him in as he could, never breaking eye-contact, but he had to draw away quickly because he needed to gag.

“Sorry”, he said quietly while wiping off some saliva from the corner of his mouth.

Geralt reached out to Roche, stroking over his cheek with his thumb. 

“C’mere”, he said in his low gravelly voice. It sent shivers down Roche’s spine.

For a while they were just lying there, pressed against each other. Geralt had his arms around Vernon. Roche cupped the Witcher’s face in his hands, just looking at him. Suddenly, Geralt smirked and ground his erection against Roche’s, drawing out a long, whiny moan from him.

“Two can play this game, Wolf”, he said with a smile and thrust his hips down, making Geralt moan quietly. 

It went on like that for a bit until they got hot and bothered again, making out with each other. Roche really couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Geralt, please”, he said between kisses and moans, “just fuck me already.”

The look he gave Geralt almost made the Witcher come on the spot. This needy expression was so new for him; he never thought Roche could look so beautiful. Out of nowhere, Geralt flipped them both over, so Roche was on his back, his thighs instantly around the Witcher’s waist. 

He looked the needy Temerian in the eyes. There wasn’t just lust in his eyes anymore. Geralt could clearly see how nervous the other man was and through his Witcher Senses he also heard how quickly his heart pounded.

“Vernon? You sure about this?”, he asked concerned. 

Roche thought about it for a moment, then nodded, biting his lip.

“Yes. It’s just that… I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how it works”, he said a little embarrassed.

“Just relax, Vernon”, Geralt whispered, stroking up and down Roche’s sides.

He kissed him gently, keeping their foreheads close to each other. When he was sure Roche was ready, he lined himself up.

“Put your legs around my waist again”, Geralt said.

Roche did just so, biting softly into his finger in anticipation.

Then, with a slow and gentle thrust, the head of Geralt’s cock pushed past the tight ring of muscles, eliciting a sharp gasp from Roche.

“Sssh”, the Witcher whispered into his ear, stroking over Vernon’s body, “You’re doing so good. Just relax.”

He pushed inside a little more, Roche’s legs were trembling. In Vernon’s face he could see lust, adoration and pain. He looked perfect. 

“Vernon”, he said between slow pushes inside, “you look so beautiful like this, you know that?”

Roche couldn’t answer, only letting out a breathy moan. 

Geralt really didn’t want to hurt the other man, trying his best to go as slowly and gently as he could. It took ages to just get past the head, but at least his partner wasn’t in pain.

“Geralt.”

“Are you hurt?”, he asked concerned, stopping his movements.

“I’m not. And I’m also not made of glass. Please, just get inside me and fuck me”, Vernon whined impatiently, squirming underneath the Witcher. 

“As you wish, sir”, Geralt smiled, relieved he didn’t hurt Vernon.

Just as he was about to push faster inside, a wave hit the boat. The impact made Geralt lose his balance and landing on top of Roche. The Temerian smirked, holding the Witcher down, flush against his heaving chest.

“Come on, Geralt”, he said in that needy tone of his, “Let’s try and move together. Maybe that’ll get you inside me faster.”

“But I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“If it gets too much, I’ll let you know, ok?”, Roche whispered impatiently.

Geralt nodded and started to move his hips again. Roche tried to meet his rhythm with his own. It took them a while to move at the same pace but once they finally found their rhythm, it felt like heaven for both of them.

Roche was so nice and hot and tight, Geralt hit… something inside of Vernon that made him see starts and god that felt good. They never looked away from one another, their breathing becoming more labored. 

Whenever Geralt hit that spot, Roche gave out a small moan, digging his heels into the Witcher’s back. Little pearls of sweat were building on Geralt’s forehead. Roche found himself adoring it. He was mesmerized by every little facial feature on Geralt. His eyes, the scar on his cheek, the nose, lips, god just everything. He kissed the Witcher everywhere he could reach, making him smile softly at him. 

“Geralt, please go faster. I’m getting close again”, Roche moaned into the crook of Geralt’s neck.

He obeyed, snapping his hips faster and faster into Roche, who cried out in pleasure, scratching down his back. Vernon looked so good like this. So needy and horny and… perfect. 

The way his eyebrows drew themselves together, his eyes closed when he moaned. The doe-like eyes that looked at him in this lustful gaze. Soft lips, kissing everywhere on his face. He was so fucked up, Geralt thought to himself.

Roche clawed himself into Geralt’s back, his breathing becoming erratic. He could feel his abdomen slowly clenching. Roche was close. 

“Geralt… Please… I.. aah..aaaah… so close.. so so close…”

Geralt gave him all he got, pounding into the smaller man, making him moan loudly into their kiss when he came for the second time.

Roche’s muscles clenched around Geralt’s cock, sending bursts of pleasure through his body. 

“Oh god, Vernon… you… aaah…god!”

With a three more hard thrusts, Geralt came inside him, moaning into the crook of Vernon’s neck. 

 

For what felt like an eternity, they were just lying there. Geralt on top of Roche, his softening cock slowly gliding out of him. They tried to catch their breath, looking into each other’s eyes.

“That was… wow….”, Vernon said, still feeling fuzzy from the afterglow.

Geralt hummed and nodded. He kissed Roche and rolled off of him, allowing the other man to breathe better. Vernon rolled onto his side, slinging an arm around Geralt’s chest and holding him close. 

The Witcher chuckled.

“What?”, Roche asked sleepily.

“Never expected you to be the cuddling type, Vernon.”

“You also didn’t expect me to be crazy for you and here we are.”

“I suppose you’re right”, Geralt laughed quietly, then remembered he should clean Roche up.

Vernon shifted uncomfortably on the bed, groaning.

“You don’t happen to have some kind of washcloth here? Your sperm is dripping out of me.”

Geralt nodded at him, getting onto his feet, still a little shakily from his orgasm. Before he got the cloth, he put his underwear on, though. He walked to the other side of the cabin, took a cloth and dipped it into a water bucket. Geralt hoped the water wasn’t too cold for Vernon. He carefully kneeled between Roche’s legs, at first cleaning up his stomach from his own release, then went lower over his soft, over-sensitive cock and then wiped Vernon’s bottom clean. Roche winced a bit, because the water was colder than he thought but didn’t complain. 

Geralt put the cloth back into the bucket, threw Roche his own underwear and joined him again in bed. After Roche put his underwear back on, he cuddled up next to Geralt, laying his head onto the Witcher’s scarred chest. 

They lied there in silence for a while until a thought crossed Geralt’s mind.

“I guess I’ll have to find a way to tell Yen about… this… about… us.”

“If you want to forget this happened and just go back to her, then I understand”, Vernon said. He tried to play it off but Geralt clearly heard the bitterness in his voice.

“Don’t say things like that”, Geralt said, lifting Roche’s chin up so he could look him in the eyes, “I want to be with you.”

Roche’s eyes went wide, the corners of his mouth twitching into a bright smile. He lifted himself up, looking at Geralt.

“Really?”, he asked quietly.

“Yes”, Geralt replied simply and smiled at him.

He never saw Roche smile so brightly before, cupping the Witcher’s face into his hands and kissing him. Softly at first but the kisses deepened in a short span of time.

Geralt had to stop the eager Temerian, before it escalated into fucking again.

“Ok, ok we should stop for tonight”, he chuckled at Roche.

“You’re right”, Vernon smiled at him, “We should get some sleep.”

“I just hope nobody heard us.”

“Shit”, Roche said, “But… sorceresses don’t have heightened hearing, right?”

“Not that I know”, Geralt replied amused, “Good night Vernon.”

“Good night Geralt.”

They gave each other a last kiss and fell into a deep sleep, arms around one another.


	16. Boats, amirite?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after... :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't think too much about the chapter title, it's an insider between me and aledbr x3

Roche awoke the next morning as the sun was rising. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking to his right. 

Oh. Right. He shared a cot with Geralt. 

Oh. Right. They fucked last night, too. 

Roche smiled at that. 

The Witcher next to him was still fast asleep. He thought of lying next to Geralt again, slinging his arm around the White Wolf and sleep some more. But then, unfortunately, he heard footsteps on deck. If the others were awake already, they should hurry and join them.

They didn’t need to attract any attention by getting up too late. Not that anyone would suspect anything. 

“Geralt, wake up”, he said, his voice still raspy from sleep “Come on, before anyone barges in on us.”

He shook the Witcher by his shoulders but to no avail. Geralt wouldn’t wake up. Roche shook him harder, this time with both hands. Still nothing.

He sighed, didn’t believe himself on what he was about to do. 

Roche straddled Geralt’s hips. While settling on top of the Witcher, he winced. His ass was hurting like fuck. He hoped he could still walk after last night. Nevertheless, he leaned down, kissing Geralt on the nose. 

It seemed to work, the Witcher’s eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light that shone through the window. 

“Roche?”, he asked sleepily, his voice barely a whisper, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Like you want to go for round two.”

“No thanks, I can still feel the first round. Just wanted to wake you up. Tried shaking you, that didn’t work. So I thought….”, Roche blushed, “I thought that would.”

“It sure did, Vernon”, Geralt chuckled. 

The Witcher drew Roche down, giving him a small peck on the lips, but the Temerian pulled himself out of his embrace before it escalated. 

“The others seem to be awake already. We should join them before they suspect anything.”

“What should they be suspecting?”, Geralt asked amused, “You’re just paranoid.”

“That paranoia saved your life on the bridge to Temple Isle, my friend”, Roche announced, crossing his arms. 

“I know, I know”, Geralt said, sitting up with his lapful of Roche, “I’m very grateful for that.”

They pressed their foreheads together, smiling. 

As Geralt looked into the sleepy Temerian's eyes, reality dawned on him. The previous night was amazing; he'd do it over and over again. 

But how should he explain to Yen that he was leaving her for Roche? How would Ciri react and more importantly would she understand and accept it? Their whole little... family would've been broken apart. 

But on the other hand, he wanted Roche. Didn't want to hurt him. And it felt so right to have him in his lap right now. He looked so happy and content, it made Geralt’s heart skip a beat.

“Right”, Roche began, pulling him out of his thoughts, “We should get dressed now.”

Geralt nodded, giving Roche a quick kiss on the lips. He held the, now struggling, Temerian tight as he stood up.

“Let go of me!”, Roche laughed.   
Geralt chuckled, setting him down on his feet. Roche winced yet again, rubbing a hand over his sore ass. 

“You alright?”, the Witcher asked a little worried.

“I’ll… manage. Had worse pains in my life”, Roche answered with a shrug. 

Geralt smiled and they both got dressed. Shortly afterwards they walked upstairs on deck. Roche was clearly limping a bit from the pain. He tried to hide it as best as possible, but when the two men were approached by Ciri it was clear the limp was obvious.

The young woman eyed him up and down.

“Roche, are you alright?”, she asked curiously, quirking an eyebrow.

“Uuuhmm”, he stammered as he tried to think of a lie, “Geralt kicked me out the bed twice…. When he was asleep that is. Of course.”

He coughed into his fist, looking away. Geralt only rolled his eyes. 

Ciri looked at him a bit skeptical but forgot about it as she initiated a conversation with Geralt.

“Won’t be long until we’re on Skellige now. Avallac’h wanted us all to meet up this afternoon on deck. Said he wanted to explain what exactly we have to do before we can summon the Hunt”, she said eagerly. 

Roche decided to leave them alone. Ciri seemed to want some time with her kind-of-father. Enjoying the fresh breeze, Roche walked towards the other end of the ship where Triss was standing.

Right, he snapped at her yesterday. He should apologize while he’s there. 

He approached the sorceress tentatively. Roche wasn’t really one for apologies. He could count the times he had actually done that on the fingers of one hand. 

Damn, he didn’t even know how to start this. It was Triss herself that rescued him from his misery. 

“Has anyone told you that staring at people is rude, Roche? Just come over here, will you?” She turned to him smiling brightly.

Roche cursed himself and joined the woman. They both turned towards the sea that shimmered in the early light of the day. 

“I…I wanted to say that my behavior last night was…deplorable, to say the least…I…” 

“It’s okay Roche, I pushed you, I was indelicate and rude…” 

Roche stopped her. 

“No…No, you were actually right. I…oh fuck how do I even…Something happened between us. Me and Geralt, that is. And I really don’t…” 

His throat suddenly went dry and his words failed him. He had just spotted Yennefer moving swiftly towards Geralt and pulling him into a kiss.

“So”, the raven haired sorceress started, looking at Geralt with an expression he knew all too well, “Now that everyone is up here, why don’t we go down and make up for lost time?”

“Uhm…”, the Witcher hesitated. 

He couldn’t confess to her that he wanted to be with Roche right now. Not on the boat, while everybody was busy making their last preparations before they were docking at the Ard Skellig harbor. 

Before he could think any further, Yennefer leaned in and gave him another heated kiss. Maybe it was for the better, if he stayed with her. People wouldn’t accept two men together anyway. It was probably for the better. 

As the kiss stopped, he looked to his left. Roche saw their kiss from the other side of the boat and guilt shot through the Witcher’s stomach. 

Or maybe he made a mistake by letting Yennefer kiss him before he could confess what had happened between him and Vernon? 

Geralt gave him a look that said “I’m so sorry”, before the sorceress basically dragged him downstairs.

As the couple disappeared below deck, Roche stood there, staring in the now empty frame of the door that led below deck. Triss touched his arm gently. He was half expecting her to mock him, instead she smiled at him, a sad, resigned smile.

“I know exactly how you feel”, she said.

“I….I need to be alone”, he said, turning away to pace around the ship.

Roche kept his gaze down, accidently bumping into one of the sailors.

“Look where the fuck you’re stepping you fucking DIMWIT”, Vernon shouted at the other man, who stepped away rather quickly. 

Even to Triss, Roche was an intimidating man when he was angry. He saw some of the fits he threw when something didn’t go his way in Flotsam or even on their way there.

The next hour, Roche spent pacing on deck. He didn’t dare to go downstairs, didn’t want to see Geralt and the sorceress doing… whatnot. Maybe Geralt truly didn’t care for him as much as he cared for Yennefer? 

They’re bound by destiny after all and shit, he thought. But did he really see regret in the Witcher’s eyes as she dragged him below deck or was it only his fucked up mind playing tricks on him? He gritted his teeth.

Maybe it was for the best after all that they were not together. Two men. Together. What a freak show, he thought. 

But every time they touched it felt so right. He yearned for Geralt’s fingers on his body already again, merely half a day after their first fuck. Maybe it should stay by one. 

And them being together would only make living harder for Geralt, too. He'd force him away from the family he had built up over the years. They wouldn't have a future together anyway...

It was better if they remained friends. It was for the better…

He saw Geralt and the sorceress ascending the stairs together shortly after. The Witcher seemed so glad to be with her, Roche would never be able to make him so happy. He turned around again, facing the sea, lost in his thoughts.

He spent his time mainly avoiding Geralt, the Witcher made no intentions on approaching him either. 

In the early evening, the elven sage Avallac’h set up a meeting, discussing on what to do. Roche didn’t really listen, until the sage mentioned something about old elven legends. After almost two days on a boat full of nagging sorceresses and his best friend barely talking to him, Roche really didn’t have the patience to sit through this.

“Nobody cares about your stupid legends, elf”, he snapped and shot the sage a dark glance, “Just tell us where to find this Sunstone!”

“Not surprising you don’t care about it. After all those elves you murdered”, Avallac’h shot back calmly.

“Watch it you son of a whore or I’ll—“

He stepped towards the sage, clenching his fists. Before he could take a swing, though, he was stopped by Geralt.

“Don’t, please. Just ignore him”, he said calmly, giving Roche’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“Fine”, he said, crossing his arms.

As much as he wanted to let his rage out at the sage, Geralt’s expression and his touch made the white hot anger in his gut die down quickly.

“Shut up, both of you”, Yennefer said in a harsh tone, “We don’t need any more fighting and nagging on a ship full of sea-sick sorceresses. Especially not when we’re just arriving on Skellige.”

With that, the boat passed underneath the Kaer Trolde Bridge into the harbor.


	17. The Temerian and the Lion Cub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche and Ciri get some time to bond while Geralt is off to get Fringilla and later the Sunstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, we're almost at 1 000 hits X___X We wanna celebrate, if we reach that number but no idea how 8D

Geralt had to get onto the Emperor’s ship to get Fringilla Vigo, the last member of the Lodge, who might’ve been willing to help.

Before he could hop onto his little boat, though, Roche pulled him in to a close hug, pressing his lips subtly against the Witcher’s neck again.

“Good luck, Geralt. Try not to get killed”, he said with a hint of worry in his tone.

“Thanks Vernon. I won’t”, the Witcher didn’t want to draw away but he had to, before the others began mocking them.

The two men nodded at each other. Geralt jumped onto his boat, Roche returning on deck of the ship. He let his gaze follow the Witcher sailing towards the regatta of the emperor. Roche really hoped he’d come back alive. 

Roche leaned on the railing, staring across the sea after he saw Geralt jump into the water. Don’t you dare come back with as much as a scratch, Wolf, he thought.

“Roche”, he heard Ciri’s young voice behind him, “Can you teach me?”

He turned around to face the ashen haired woman, holding a crossbow in her hands. She looked at him eagerly. 

“Teach you to shoot?” he asked and quirked an eyebrow. That surely was a surprising request. Nevertheless, he felt pride swell in his chest at the thought that Ciri wanted him to teach her, rather than Geralt.

“Yes”, she smiled, “At Kaer Morhen I saw how you took one Rider after the other out with only one shot. I want to do that, too!”

Roche’s smile only widened at the compliment of his marksman skills. 

“Alright, I can teach you a trick or two I suppose. Let’s go up that hill over there. You can practice on the trees."

Ciri flashed him a big smile and they walked up the hill together. From there, they also had an excellent view on the regatta of the emperor. Roche leaned on one of the trees, lighting up his pipe.

“Lift your shoulders, aim higher”, he said in his usual commanding voice.

Ciri did just so, though rolling her eyes with a small grin.

“Your feet need to be further apart from each other while shooting. Watch your footwork, girl.”

“My foot..pfff! Ah ha ha ha!”

The young woman suddenly burst out laughing, holding her stomach.

“What’s so funny all of a sudden?”, Roche asked confused.

Ciri held up one finger, signaling Roche to wait a moment while she tried to control her breathing again.

“You just sounded exactly like Geralt when he trained me at Kaer Morhen”, she giggled.

“Did I?”, the commander asked, not able to hide his smile any longer. 

Roche continued training Ciri in shooting for a little while longer, after she stopped laughing, of course. They then went down the hill again towards the boat. 

“You remind me an awful lot of Ves. She’s like a daughter to me, like you are to Geralt, you know?”

“Seems like you and Geralt have more in common than I thought”, she said with a smile, “the same commanding tone, an adoptive-daughter… You even share a bed together. Like you’re married!”

“Well”, Roche stammered, blushing, “Not exactly like we’re married or anything like that. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ciri shot him a questioning look, but shook her head instead of asking him anything else.

As they arrived at the ship, they saw Yennefer talking to a woman with short black hair in a dark red dress. Roche figured that must’ve been Fringilla Vigo, the last sorceress they needed. If she was here, Geralt shouldn’t be far, either. He looked around, trying to find the Witcher, but to no avail.

“If you’re looking for Geralt, he set off with Philippa to find the Sunstone”, Yennefer said, more to Ciri than to him.

“But, I wanted him to meet someone!”, Ciri exclaimed, “I met a nice young man, named Skjall on Hindarsfjall. He helped me escape the Hunt and I wanted to thank him.”

Yennefer’s expression suddenly saddened.

“What? What’s wrong?”, Ciri asked perplexed.

“Ciri”, Yen begun, taking a deep breath, “Skjall… he is dead.”

“Then I must pay my respects at least”, the young woman said determined, “Roche would you come with me?”

He nodded. Of course he would come with her. 

Yennefer opened a portal to Hindarsfjall, Roche and Ciri stepping through it.

“Now I know why Geralt complains about portals so much”, Roche mumbled.

“Don’t you start with ‘I hate portals’, too now”, Ciri said unamused, “Come on, we must check the graveyard.”

They had looked at every tombstone, none of them marking Skjall’s grave, though.

“Ugh, Bastards”, Ciri suddenly said.

“What is it?”, Roche asked surprised.

“Beyond the village – there’s a pit. They fill it with sheep taken by blackleg. Crabs pick at their bones at night.”

With that, she set off to said pit, Roche following behind. As they arrived, they found dozens of sheep corpses on top of each other. And one corpse of a human – Skjall. Roche had to cover his nose. He was used to the stench of blood and corpses on a battlefield but this here clearly took the cake. 

Without another word, Ciri jumped right into the pit, dragging Skjall’s corpse out. Roche helped her dig a grave and bury him. As they stood in silence, some villagers approached them.

“What are you doing?”, a woman asked.

“What you should’ve done long ago. We’re burying Skjall!”, Ciri replied, her voice trembling.

She argued with the Skelligers for a while, until one of them shouted right into her face.

“Craven’s place is in the DITCH!”

That was enough, Roche thought. He stepped between Ciri and the man, punching him in the face and knocking him out. 

“Shut the hell up! You’re leaving this grave untouched or I’ll torture you whoresons personally! Understand me?”, Roche shouted.

The Skelligers shook in fear, apologizing to Ciri, to Skjall and Roche. Then they left without saying anything else. 

“Thank you, Roche”, Ciri said and hugged him. 

He was surprised by this sudden act of affection; nevertheless he hugged her back.

As they turned around to make their way back to the ship, they heard a portal opening right behind them. To their surprise, it was Yennefer, here to pick them up.

“Geralt just came back so I thought I’d teleport you back rather than letting you go the whole way by boat”, she said, smiling at Ciri.

“Let’s get this over with”, Roche said impatiently. He really hated portals. And he only went through one in his whole life. 

As they arrived at the ship again, Roche instantly walked below deck, checking up on Geralt. Ciri stayed with Yennefer, telling her about Skjall and how Roche knocked a man out in the process of burying her friend.

Roche stepped through the door to their cabin, finding the Witcher shirtless on the bed. 

With a massive wound on the front of his shoulder, that seemed to go over parts of his back, as well. Geralt clearly had trouble cleaning it.

“Need a hand with that?”, Roche asked.


	18. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get your shit together, guys ._. Jeeez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to 1 000 hits, I'll go to McDonalds today to celebrate lmao
> 
> See you all in 3 days when I wake up from my eating-coma again :'D

Roche moved towards the injured Witcher. As he approached the bed, he took off his chaperon and coat, throwing them over a chair. He kneeled in front of Geralt and took the wash cloth out of the Witcher’s hands. Slowly, he started cleaning the front side of the wound.

“So, what have you been doing while I was gone?”, Geralt asked quietly. 

“Certainly didn’t sleep with your sorceress”, Roche replied dryly.

“Roche I didn’t even want---”

“Just forget about it”, the commander snapped back.

They were surrounded by an uneasy silence until Roche decided to speak again.

“Your lion cub of Cintra surely has a talent with the crossbow.”

“What do you mean?”

“While you were rescuing Fringilla I taught your daughter a thing or two about shooting. She’s a quick learner.”

“She sure is”, he chuckled.

“What caused that wound, Geralt?”, he asked concerned. 

“A golem. Couldn’t evade its attack quick enough.”

“How do you fight those things anyway?”

“Never try to parry their attacks. When they start charging at you, you roll away as quickly as possible. Slowing it down with the Yrden works, too.”

“I should’ve been with you, maybe this wouldn’t have happened”, Roche said. 

He leaned in closer to Geralt, reaching behind the Witcher to reach the rest of the wound. Roche brushed with his left hand over Geralt’s sternum, making him inhale deeply. Roche could barely register the effects the light touch on the Witcher had because he winced as the Temerian set the cloth down on the wound again.

Roche shifted his head a little to the left, brushing his lips ever so slightly against Geralt’s neck. He had no intention of going any further, but when the Witcher hummed and slung his arm around him, he threw the cloth to the side and kissed him properly on the neck. Roche trailed his lips higher up, nibbling softly at his earlobe, eliciting a low groan from the Witcher’s throat. 

Vernon drew away so he could look into Geralt’s eyes.

“I missed you so much, you know that, Wolf? I was so worried; I should’ve come with you.”

“I missed you, too”, Geralt growled, drawing Roche in again to kiss him.

Their lips met yet again, moving against one another. Roche parted his, making room for Geralt’s tongue invading him. The two men moaned at each other’s touch, grinding their hips together.

Roche was painfully hard already; he needed Geralt, even if it still hurt a little from their first time. 

The Witcher unbuttoned Roche’s shirt, taking in his muscled chest and stomach. He stroked a few times over it, then moved his hands lower, gripping his ass. Geralt’s touch made Roche gasp, then moan as the Witcher’s hands found their way underneath the hem of his pants and underwear.

Their mouths clashed again, Roche exploring every scarred inch of Geralt’s chest with his fingers and grinding his hips into the Witcher’s erection straining against his trousers.

Suddenly, Geralt was overcome with doubts again, and reluctantly drew away. His forehead rested on Roche’s chest as he tried do steady his breath. 

„Vernon…we can’t. I’m sorry. I thought I could handle this but…“ 

„You didn’t tell her“, the Temerian said. There was no anger or resentment in his voice. It was simply a statement. As if he already knew. 

„No. I did not…“ 

„And you have no intention to do so. Am I right?“ 

They looked in each other’s eyes in silence for what seemed an eternity. The dying light of the day filtered through the porthole and immersed them in a golden glow. Golden like his eyes, thought Vernon. His heart ached more than ever. 

He would never, truly, have him.

“I can’t leave her Vernon, she’s Ciri’s…mother. I can’t just break our family. Ciri needs us united to have her back in this fight. I can’t drop this on them, they don’t deserve it“. 

There were so many things Roche wanted to say. He wanted to shout at him that it wasn’t true. That Ciri WAS strong enough, hell she was probably stronger than the two of them put together. That he could never again be whole without him. That he needed him, as much as Yen or Ciri, or maybe even more. That he was prepared to send everything to hell for a chance to be with him. Everything. Including bloody Temeria. But he didn’t. 

Because that wasn’t what Geralt needed, nor what was best for him. He imagined the Witcher’s life if they ever ended up together. Being ostracized not only for being a mutant, but for being a…degenerate, too. 

He imagined his friends turning their backs on him. How could he even think to impose such a future on Geralt? 

„I…understand“, was all he managed to utter. 

His throat constricting and his breath hitching. He planted the sweetest of kisses on Geralt’s forehead and felt the Witcher’s arms tightening around his torso. Then he lifted himself up and collected his coat and chaperon. He opened the door of the cabin softly and went out, without looking back. 

Geralt sat on the bed, incapable of moving. He stared at the little pool of slightly red water forming beneath the wet cloth that lay abandoned on the floor of the cabin. He kept repeating himself that this was for the best in the vain hope that repeating it could actually convince his mind to believe that concept. 

It had never dawned in his mind that one day the love he felt for Yen could actually waver. As much as he enjoyed the company of other women, he truly ever cared only for her. Until now. He couldn’t really explain what he felt for the man…he didn’t even know if it was love or merely attraction, but it was something powerful enough to make the entire foundations of his life shake and tremble. It was scary. 

And it worried him how much the Temerian was into this. He could see it in his eyes how much he cared, how much he suffered and worried for him and couldn’t allow his doubts to make him suffer even more…So yes, this was for the best…If only he could shut his brain off for a second and actually believe those words…


	19. Nilfgaardian Lemon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last preparations before the big battle....
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

They set sails for Undvik that same evening. The silhouette of Tor Gvalch'ca was barely visible in the night, but still a threatening, looming sight which grew bigger and bigger. 

The tension and nervousness were palpable. Ciri paced the deck back and forth, stopping every now and then to peer ahead and mumble impatiently. The sorceresses stood huddled together, speaking in hushed whispers. Even the elven sage was stiffer and more silent than usual. 

Geralt sat on the ladder to the forecastle, sharpening his Sihil. He occasionally glanced at the other side of the ship, where Roche leaned over the railing, watching the smoke from his pipe slowly making its way in the night sky. It didn’t take very long for the black sails of the Nilfgaardian fleet to finally come into view.

They disembarked and were welcomed by Emhyr’s generals, who then proceeded to escort them to the main tent. By the light of braziers and candles Avallac’h explained the details of the battle ahead of them. Roche listened attentively and didn’t say much, although Geralt could swear he had heard his jaw clenching when one of the Nilfgaardians boasted about the unrivaled skills of their soldiers.

„I suggest you all take a few hours of sleep. We will activate the sunstone at dawn“ Avallac’h stated. 

As Roche was leaving the tent he heard Ciri complaining for being left out of the fight…He was pretty sure Geralt and the elf would have a hard time keeping her from joining the battle. He could understand her, actually. If he was forced to stay tucked away while his men fought a desperate battle, he would have felt like a caged animal, too. 

He made his way to the tent that had been given him. As much as he felt tired he was pretty sure no sleep would come for him. Too many thoughts swirled in his mind night now.

He sat on his cot, grabbed his trusted crossbow and began taking care of the strings and springs, oiling them carefully. His mind began to wander…Maybe they were being too confident about the upcoming battle…The more he thought about their plan, the more he could see they were relying too much on chance. 

There was always a certain degree of uncertainty in war, but here… Nothing was granted. The elven general Avallac’h told them about could actually decide it wasn’t a very good idea to disobey his king, and then they would be vastly outnumbered. The magic circle could fail. Eredin could catch on to their trap and then…  
He was overthinking this and he knew it. 

He wondered how the others were faring, if they were as worried as him. His thoughts drifted to Geralt. It seemed like a hundred years had gone by since that night in the Wyzima inn. And the night they spent together… merely a few days before. The Witcher’s hands on his body, the foreign yet now so familiar taste of his lips… He felt a wave of sadness wash over him. He missed Geralt, terribly. Even though the mere thought of talking to him now made his heart clench. He should just concentrate and… 

„Can I come in?“ 

Well, fuck. His mouth went dry as he looked at the Witcher, standing hesitantly on the entrance of the tent. 

„I thought you might want a strong drink…“ Geralt continued, showing the bottle he held in his hand, „Couldn’t find any Temerian Rye I’m afraid, only Nilfgaardian Lemon.“ 

The Temerian snorted. 

„Figures…You know we actually use it to toast the Black Ones defeats in the North? Never thought I’d drink to their victory, but here I am.” 

He accepted the bottle and took a swig. He tried to sound as unaffected and calm as he could. 

„How’s Ciri?“ he inquired.

„She’s…Well, she stormed off, saying she needed time on her own. I fear she won’t easily submit to Avallac’h’s orders. She can be impulsive at times…“ 

„Yeah, so different from you, right?“, he retorted ironically, then, seeing the serious expression on his friend’s face he added, „She wants revenge, Geralt, and she deserves it if you ask me. Besides, have you seen her fighting? She’s formidable, give the girl some credit…You can’t keep her under a bell jar all her life“. 

The Witcher sat next to him. 

„I suppose you’re right, it’s just…Not easy“. 

They sat there for a while, in silence, both immersed in their thoughts. 

„Be careful tomorrow, Vernon“. 

„Ha…I’ve been killing elves since I was sixteen, the Red Riders are just better equipped ones“. Geralt grabbed his shoulders and forced Roche to face him. 

„I’m serious, don’t do anything rash, please“. They were close, so very close. Roche struggled against him 

„Stop this Geralt. Fuck!“ 

He got up from the bed and turned to face him. He fought to keep his voice down. 

„If you want to walk in, pretending nothing happened and that we are back to…whatever we were before all this madness, fine! But at least don’t look at me like that, don’t worry about me, don’t…touch me…I can’t bear it“.

He turned away. Trying to hide his frustration and the tears that threatened to show in his eyes. He felt Geralt getting up and making his way towards the exit. That’s it, he thought. Congratulations, Vernon, you managed to fuck up the only good thing you had left in your life. 

But Geralt hadn’t gone out. When Roche turned, the Witcher was still in the tent carefully tying the leather straps that held the flaps together. 

„What the hell are you doing?“ 

Geralt rose, slowly, then moved to stand in front of the Temerian. 

„I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen“, he stated simply.

“So that means”, Roche swallowed, “I didn’t lose you?”

“You didn’t and never will. Ever, Vernon”, Geralt replied quietly with a smile.

Roche couldn’t believe it, didn’t know what to say, so he just closed his arms around the Witcher, hugging him tightly. He never ever wanted to be away from Geralt again. Roche drew away to look at him.

“This might be our last time alone”, Roche whispered, “I mean… for a while.”

“Yeah”, Geralt replied, “Might as well make good use of it…”

Roche chuckled at the comment of the Witcher, then drew him closer to his face, kissing him deeply. The kiss was like the one on the bridge. All teeth and tongue, showing that Geralt belonged to him now. Geralt held Roche tight, almost crushing him. 

Roche swung his legs around the Witcher’s waist, as he picked him up. Their lips never broke apart. He was so happy Geralt decided to stay, hell, came inside even. He moaned into the Witcher’s mouth, wanting so much more. 

Geralt walked with Roche clung to him across the tent, dropping him softly onto the mattress of his cot and following him. Before they continued making out, Roche ripped his chaperon off and threw it to the side. Geralt kissed up and down the smaller man’s neck, eliciting beautiful little moans and whimpers from him.

“I want you”, Roche groaned.

“I need you”, Geralt replied in a whisper.

The Witcher sat back up again, fumbling with his armor, finally getting to take it off again in front of Roche. Roche took the opportunity to take his own clothes off. He luckily had neither his coat nor chainmail on, as he was oiling his crossbow. Didn’t need to get the coat dirty before a battle. 

As Geralt was only in his underwear, like Roche, he grabbed the other man and flipped them both over. Now, Roche was on the Witcher’s lap feeling their erections rubbing at each other through the fabric. Roche leaned down, kissing Geralt with pure passion.

Before he knew, Geralt sneaked his hands around him and groped his ass through his underwear, making Roche groan into his mouth. Still with his hands on Vernon’s ass, he rocked the man on top of him back and forth, giving them both some delicious friction on their achingly hard cocks. 

“Fuck… Geralt”, Roche moaned quietly.

“I want you so much, Vernon. More than anything else. Never want this to stop.”

Hearing Geralt say that made butterflies flutter in Roche’s stomach. He didn’t know what to reply, so he kissed up and down the Witcher’s neck, making him groan. He seemed to like that, Roche noted.

“Geralt I don’t wanna wait any longer”, Roche whimpered as his clothed cock brushed against the Witcher’s yet again.

Geralt replied with a groan, then yanked Roche’s and his own underwear down to their knees. Roche took both their pairs off completely, tossing them on the ground and settled back into Geralt’s lap. 

He leaned down to continue kissing Geralt but missed his lips as the Witcher turned his head towards the little table next to the cot.

“Is that oil?”, he asked.

“Yes, good observation”, Roche replied sarcastically, eager to make out again.

“I think I know how to get inside you faster then. Speed things up and make you feel even better”, the Witcher smirked.

Roche quirked an eyebrow. He really didn’t know what the Witcher meant. 

Geralt leaned over, careful to hold Roche still in his lap, and took the little can of oil. He put a few drips of it onto his index and middle finger. With the other hand he pressed Roche flush against his chest again.

Then suddenly, Geralt’s oily fingers caressed his entrance, making the Temerian yelp. He lowered his head into the crook of Geralt’s neck, didn’t want to make too much noise. The Witcher circled around the tight ring of muscles for a few seconds more, then pushed his fingers inside. Roche let out a breathy moan, pushing back against them. 

“Oh god”, he breathed, “Geralt what are you… Aaaah!”

He was taken by surprised as the Witcher curled his fingers, brushing against this spot in him that made him see stars. Roche relaxed his body, moaning into Geralt’s ear, urging him on to go faster.

“Geralt, please hurry up already”, he whined impatiently.

The Witcher chuckled and withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the bed sheets. Roche lowered his hips for easier access as Geralt lined himself up. 

He was careful at first, pushing the head in slowly. The moan from Roche he got in return made it hard to not slam into and pound him until tomorrow. Roche tried his best to stay quiet but couldn’t help the sounds escaping his mouth as Geralt pushed deeper and deeper inside. 

As he was fully sheathed inside of Roche, Geralt began to thrust his hips carefully, the man on top of him meeting his rhythm with his own. Roche’s moans and whines were almost too much for Geralt. He was so noisy in bed; he would’ve never guessed that. Who would’ve thought the Temerian was crazy for him, anyway? 

“Ah, god, Geralt!”

“Roche”, Geralt moaned between thrusts, “Keep your voice down before anyone hears you!”

“I can’t.. aah! Help it, you feel too good”, Roche grunted.

Geralt’s pace sped up and before Roche could shout the Witcher’s name, he bit into his shoulder. The Witcher moaned at that and had to bury his face into the crook of Roche’s neck to keep quiet. 

Now they both had to control themselves to not shout each other’s names as loud as they could. Roche sat up a bit, now bouncing up and down Geralt’s hard cock, never breaking eye contact. 

Geralt watched Roche’s movements, mesmerized by the other man’s erection moving in his rhythm. He sped his pace up, making Roche’s eyes flutter shut. The man on top of him threw his head back and let out a shaky moan as Geralt brushed that spot inside of him over and over and over again. 

“Don’t stop”, he moaned, “Yes, please, yes right there!”

“Vernon, I’m getting close…”

Roche leaned back down and slung his hands around the Witcher as best he could. He moaned as Geralt went even faster.

“Geralt, just… aaaah… just pound into me. I need this. I need you. So, so badly…”

Geralt groaned and slammed into the Temerian, making him cry out his name. They were both so close, their abdomen clenching and legs trembling. Geralt withdrew a hand from Roche’s ass and gripped his dripping cock. He stroked it in the same rhythm that he was pounding into Roche and with a gasp followed by a long deep moan Roche came all over his hands and stomach.

The sight of Roche’s lips parting into an O-shape, his flushed cheeks and chest was enough for Geralt to come as well, emptying himself inside of him. They rode out their orgasms together and after Roche climbed off of the Witcher, they both collapsed onto the bed, not able to move. 

“I… I needed that”, Roche broke the silence after they got their breathing under control again.

“Yeah, me too”, Geralt said silently, “I’m sorry about that with Yen. I didn’t want it to happen.”

“It’s… alright”, Roche sighed, “We need something to clean up, though.”

“Right, cleaning”, he said, “I will settle this with Yen once this is all over, though.”

“I know, I know. Just clean me up now, I wanna sleep”, he said clearly annoyed. Roche really didn’t want Geralt to bring Yen up again just after they had sex.

Geralt stood on shaky legs, looking in the trunk in one of the corners of the tent for a piece of cloth. When he found one, he cleaned himself up, then moved back onto the bed to clean Roche.

“That oil really helped”, the Witcher said while wiping it off, “Shame it makes such a mess.”

“With or without the oil, it would’ve been a mess anyway”, Roche huffed. 

“True”, Geralt replied and tossed the cloth back into the trunk.

He settled back down next to Roche, who leaned into the Witcher’s touch once more. 

Roche thought about the battle that lay before them. They might not make it out alive. What if Geralt died? What if HE died? No, no. Dying is not an option. Defeat is an impossibility! He shouldn’t think too hard about it. Roche rather thought about the events that just happened. He loved being this close to Geralt. It made him feel at peace.

After he played with Geralt’s white mane for a bit, he slept in, Geralt followed shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure you shouldn't use this kind of oil for that kind of thing but fuck it, amirite? 
> 
> Also, my friend Al and I sometimes use quotes from WPC 56 for Roche's and Geralt's dialoge :3 Roche's voice actor had a role there for season 2 and 3 and he was just ADORABLE.
> 
> If you can find any quotes, let me know on tumblr (kawaii-as-fcuk-bunddy and aledbr) xD pretty sure nobody knows the show or is willing to watch it but might as well give it a try :D


	20. The battle begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche and Geralt set out to fight the Hunt...

They awoke the next morning, still with their arms around each other. Roche rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up to stretch his arms. He felt Geralt’s hand stroking up and down his back as he did so. Geralt sat up as well, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Morning, Wolf”, he said with a raspy voice.

“Morning”, Geralt said sleepily, “So this is it, huh? The big fight.”

“Hmm”, Roche hummed, “Let’s get out and talk to that elf.”

“Avallac’h.”

“Right.”

After both of them got dressed they headed out to look for the elven sage. Yennefer, Triss and the other sorceresses were already standing on top of the mountains, ready to form the magic circle. Geralt nodded into Yen’s direction to greet her, then turned around to Triss on the other hill to do the same. 

Avallac’h and Ciri stood near the coast, letting their gaze wander over the sea and stones peeking out the water. They turned around as Geralt and Roche approached them.

“Are you ready, Geralt?”, Avallac’h asked calmly. He didn’t seem nervous at all; Roche found that suspicious. But maybe he was just being paranoid because of the battle that lay before them.

“Let’s get these bastards”, the Witcher replied determined. Roche smiled at that. Seeing Geralt so strong-willed made his heart skip a beat. They weren’t going to lose this fight. 

“With pleasure, Geralt”, the sage said with a dark voice, “With Pleasure.”

Geralt and Roche boarded the ship with the 7th Ymlats Infantry Regiment under Duke var Attre, ready to sail out and get the Hunt. Roche was uncomfortable standing between so many Black Ones. Nervousness was spreading through his body but he had to ignore it for now. Roche needed a clear mind for the battle. 

Avallac’h, still with Ciri, opened a box, taking the Sunstone out of it.

“I give you my heart?”, Ciri asked as she eyed the stone, “What kind of spell is that?”

“It’s an old love letter. Ancient”, the sage replied, “As I said, this stone was to reunite a pair of lovers.”

“Never thought I’d say anything of the sort to Eredin.”

Ciri read the spell from the stone in the elven tongue. The Sunstone started glowing and Avallac’h activated it. He then signaled the sorceresses on the mountains to form the circle.

“The elven bauble worked”, Yen said relatively unsurprised. 

 

“They approach”, Avallac’h stated. 

A portal opened, freezing the water all around it in a massive radius. The sorceresses lifted their arms, beginning to form the circle, so the ship couldn’t teleport away anymore. Ciri stared at the portal, clearly distressed. She feared something would go wrong.

“Break a sword, Geralt”, the sage whispered.

One of the Nilfgaardian soldiers looked through a spyglass at the portal, the boat sailing slowly towards it. Roche and Geralt stood side by side. You could cut the tension with a knife, everyone was clearly nervous. Roche had to make sure these Nilfgaardian bastards didn’t fuck up or get Geralt killed. If anything were to happen to the Witcher, he would make sure the whoreson, who was responsible for this got what he deserved. 

Then, suddenly, the ice reached the boat, forcing it to stand still. Geralt and Roche jumped out the ship together. 

“We should split up. We have the element of surprise, if we flank the Naglfar”, Roche said in his usual commanding tone.

“Good idea”, Geralt nodded, “Good luck, Roche.”

“Fuck it”, Vernon groaned and yanked Geralt’s head down for a kiss.

The soldiers around looked at them with wide opened eyes, not believing what they just saw. Roche gave them his usual death stare and commanded some to come with him. They did without even questioning it. Geralt took the other half of the men and they split up.

On the Naglfar stood Caranthir, navigator of the Hunt. He saw the men approaching and cast a spell, freezing everyone.

Outside, where Ciri and Avallac’h watched, it went completely still.

“Silence”, Ciri stated, “It’s completely still.”

“It’s a trap. We must flee. Now”, the sage replied.

“Not this time.”

“No, Ziraeal. You are not ready. You do not control your powers.”

“I’ll manage”, she said determined, “Get out of my way.”

“Ciri!”

She stopped before teleporting, looking at the elf. 

“The ice… It’s a spell. You must find the mage who cast it, destroy his staff”, he said, giving up on stopping the woman.

“I’ll not stop with his staff”, she said and teleported onto the ice.


	21. Caranthir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri fights against Caranthir. Then Geralt fights against Caranthir. 
> 
> (I'm too tired for summaries jfc)

Ciri reappeared again between two completely frozen ships of the Nilfgaardian army. She was greeted by Riders of the Hunt. With swift strikes and her teleportation she killed them quickly, slicing them into pieces. 

On her way over the frozen sea to find the mage, who cast the spell, dozens of Riders and Hounds got in her way. But they didn’t live very long after seeing the ashen haired woman. In the icy walls around her she could see frozen ships, or what was left of them at least. 

As she finally reached the mage, she recognized him – Caranthir. 

“Zireael! I await”, he said and the fight begun.

Both of them teleported away before the other could hit, Ciri managed to hit him a few times, but Caranthir got her good with one of his spells. 

She did a pirouette, trying to strike him from behind but he teleported behind her. That’s when she finally got him. She sliced right through his gut, not killing, but badly injuring him. Another hit against his staff and he flew across the ice, landing on his back. Caranthir crawled towards his staff, as he reached it and turned around, Ciri jumped blade forward into it, destroying it. 

The spell broke. It sent both of them flying; Ciri struggled to get back up. 

“Almost, Zireael. Almost”, Caranthir spoke out of breath.

Just as he tried to grab her, she teleported away again.

On the ledge behind Caranthir, Geralt unfroze and jumped down, ready to finish the elf off.

“Witcher…”, he said surprised, “So be it. Let us end this.”

Geralt, a little weakened by being frozen, drew his sword. The elf shot ice crystals at him, then teleported to a safe distance. The Witcher deflected some of the projectiles, hitting Caranthir with it. While the elf was still recovering from that, Geralt attacked him with his sword, wounding him on his left arm. 

Just as the Witcher was about to hit another blow, Caranthir hit him right into his stomach with his broken staff, making Geralt fall down. His silver sword flew out of his hands; he couldn’t reach it anymore. 

“It ends here, Witcher”, Caranthir said. He was really beat up. Only a few more hits would’ve killed him.

 

“Come on, you Nilfgaardian whoresons! Shoot the damned elf!!”

And with what seemed to be the loudest shout he’d ever heard Roche’s lips escape, a good dozen arrows penetrated Caranthir’s back, forcing him onto his knees. 

“You stay where you are, watch our backs, I’ll go down”, he said in his commanding tone. The Nilfgaardians actually had their captain with them, but even he listened to the Temerian; probably too intimidated to say anything.

Roche jumped down the ledge to help Geralt up. He held is hand out and dragged him onto his feet again, giving the Witcher his silver sword.

“You were… amazing”, Geralt said out of breath.

“Yeah, what would you do without me, hm?”, Roche replied with a smile. He seemed relaxed but in reality, he was scared shitless of losing Geralt in that moment.

“Without you, I’d… I’d be lost”, Geralt barely whispered and dragged him into a long kiss. 

After their lips drew away from each other to breathe, Geralt couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I… I love you, Vernon.”

The Temerian’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. Geralt just said what he wished to hear for weeks now. Roche smiled the brightest he’d ever smiled and kissed him once more.

“I love you, too Geralt”, he whispered against the Witcher’s lips. 

“It’s not over, yet, Wolf”, they heard the deep rumbly voice of Caranthir, who had crawled behind them. He grabbed Geralt by the foot and teleported them away, leaving Roche alone on the icy fields.


	22. The White Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle continues...

“You were supposed to watch our backs, you imbeciles!! Look at what you’ve done! Oh, when I’ll come up there, I’ll shove those bows right up your asses”, Roche shouted at the frightened soldiers. 

He quickly climbed up the icy wall, joining “his” soldiers once again. They turned to reach the Naglfar but were stopped by dozens of Riders of the Hunt in their way. The fights were hard, harder than at Kaer Morhen even, but they managed. These Black bastards actually did know how to fight, Roche thought. 

He hoped Geralt was alright, though. Where the fuck did the elf teleport them? He could neither see them on the ice nor anywhere on the ships. Roche was sure to make every fucking elf pay, if they hurt the man that just confessed his love to him. 

On the other side of the ice stood Geralt, Crach’s blood was oozing on the boat’s wooden floor. Eredin was sitting in front of him, half-dead with an eye now missing. The Witcher held his blade in front of the elf’s face.

“Said you had something to tell me”, Geralt spoke. His blade was mere inches away from Eredin’s face.

“Avallac’h has tricked us both”, the leader of the Hunt replied in a smoky tone, “He set us against each other… and he’s made off with Cirilla.”

“I don’t believe you”, Geralt shook his head.

He watched as Eredin took his final breath, ready to end the fighting once and for all. But suddenly portals opened and dozens of Hounds sprang out. Just as he thought he was lost, another portal behind him opened and Yennefer dragged him through it.

„Retreat! Go back to the main land!“, shouted Roche. 

The men made their way through the melting ice with difficulty. Some of them were badly injured and carried by their companions. He tried to catch a glimpse of Geralt amidst the smoke and the fire that now engulfed the ships in the bay, but to no avail. Fear and apprehension held his heart in an icy grip. What if…

No he was fine, he had to be.

He had just dragged one of the wounded Nilfgaardians on the shore when all hell broke loose. There was a blinding flash and a loud cracking sound and suddenly the tower on the other side of the bay was surrounded by a white aura.

The earth shook and pieces of terrain flew around, as if gravity itself and all the laws that held their world together were collapsing. A storm of epic proportions suddenly hit them with hail, rain and thunderbolts. 

Roche tried to steady himself and ran along the shore, trying to make his way to the tower. If Geralt was alive, hell he better was, he would head there too, he was pretty sure of that.

But he couldn’t proceed any further, for the sea had begun to swallow vast portions of the shoreline. It seemed he would have to pass through the inland. Fuck.

Over the sound of the storm he suddenly heard men screaming and horses whining, the clamor coming from behind the trees that lay ahead of him. 

The lowest branches of the trees and the holly bushes impeded his race and cut tears in his clothes as he ran. When he finally reached the clearing, he had a hard time believing what he was seeing. 

Ice Giants, like those in the ballads he heard as a child. Only that these were very real and very angry. The Skellige Warriors were trying to fight them but the giants just ignored the spears and arrows thrown at them and kept sweeping their enormous arms, sending the men flying in the air. 

Forktails and basilisks flew through the fields and attacked anyone they found in their way, tearing them apart with their sharp teeth and talons.

Roche had to move fast and find a way to avoid them if he wanted to get to the tower alive and in one piece. He kept to the tree line and moved quickly towards what seemed like an ancient road. He would just have to run once there. Fast.

From his cover behind the bushes he suddenly spotted two horses running full speed towards the tower. The horsemen were none other than Geralt and Yennefer. He tried to shout at them but the thunders and the storm swallowed his cry.   
Well, at least he knew that Geralt was indeed safe now. 

He was just about to sprint towards the road when he heard shouting and cursing in Nilfgaardian. He turned around and saw, just a few meters back, the men who had followed him in battle charging from the trees towards one of the giants who was currently busy slaughtering a battalion of Skelligers. Shit.

He threw a glance towards the tower, Geralt was with Yennefer…she would probably keep him safe…Better than he could ever hope to do, but these men, these boys…  
He stood there for a moment, unable to believe what he was about to do.

That’s a new low, Vernon, fighting to save the skin of some Nilfgaardian whoresons. 

He charged, too.

The giant brandished a huge anchor it had probably picked up from one of the wrecks that littered the island. It made the earth tremble and shake every time it hit the ground.

„Aim for the head and eyes you idiots!“, he shouted at the archers, „You! Soldier! You know how to use a crossbow?“ 

The soldier was no more than a kid, but he stood proud as he nodded to him. 

„Use this, get his attention. And don’t scratch it.“

He unsheathed his greatsword and tried to circle the huge beast while the other men dodged the attacks as best as they could. Roche knew he had to go for the legs, cripple him if he could. Geralt had told him that, as he recounted one of his misadventures with a Cyclops.

The giant swept its weapon and tossed one of the soldiers away like a rag doll. He didn’t get up. 

Roche sprinted and quickly slashed at the thick blue skin, right behind the creature’s left knee. Black, icy blood spurted from the wound and the giant spun on himself, looking for his attacker, but Roche had already rolled away. 

The Witcher’s moves and feints he had had time to observe while fighting at Geralt’s side were coming to his aid.

He kept slashing and rolling like that, trying to confuse and exhaust his opponent and the soldiers quickly started to emulate his moves, circling around the giant and hitting whenever they got the chance. The giant seemed to be feeling the fatigue and blood loss. His movements became sloppier, slower. 

But exhaustion mixed with euphoria was making the men less careful too. 

„Don’t try to take him down, he’s still too strong!“, Roche shouted.

Suddenly the beast gave a loud roar and brought his massive hands to his right eye where a crossbow bolt was stuck. The Temerian found himself praying that the bolt had hit the brain and that the giant would collapse and die, but he wasn’t so lucky. 

The beast got up and with a deafening shout launched himself at the archers.   
Roche acted without thinking, he ran towards the Nilfgaardians who were now trying to scurry away from the giant’s deadly blows and at the last moment sidestepped and jumped right into the beast’s path, swirling his blade and slicing the monster’s abdomen. 

Great, now he only had to roll away before he was…hit.

If the giant had got him good he would probably have died on the impact, but he had managed to evade most of the blow. Instead of being hurled in the air by the huge hand, he was simply thrown a few feet away, but he still felt as if all his bones had shattered while he rolled on the moss covered, wet ground.

He held his side, pain shooting through his body as he suppressed a scream. He managed to raise himself on his elbows and knees and looked around searching for his sword. The giant in the meantime had stopped running and had turned towards him, fixing his good eye on the new foe. 

Roche tried to get on his feet but his legs didn’t support him and he fell on his back. The rain made the terrain muddy and slippery. He crawled backwards, as the giant lumbered towards him, limping and moaning in pain for the wound on his belly. The Temerian was still looking for his sword, or for any fucking weapon he could find, but there was nothing useful around him. 

The monster approached, growling.

So this was how it was going to end, his life snuffed out by a fucking ice giant, on a foreign land, while he fought along his lifetime enemies. 

It could have been worse, he thought.

Gods, he hoped Geralt would be fine…that he would be happy. He would have given everything to see his face one last time.

„Spar’le!! Fire!!“ 

He heard shouting, and the giant howled as the arrows pierced his head and back. And then his howl stopped abruptly. Another crossbow bolt now protruded from his other eye, having pierced the skull from behind. 

Roche rolled on his side as the giant fell forwards, finally dead. 

He grabbed the hand he was being offered and got up. The boy with the crossbow looked at him and smiled, offering him his weapon back. Roche hesitated. „Keep it boy, you’re good with it“.


	23. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yen and Roche set out to go to the tower to find Geralt and Ciri...

Yennefer of Vengerberg was fighting against the raging storm with all her powers. What appeared to be like a new Conjunction of the Spheres had let in all sorts of creatures and monsters and worst of all, the White Frost that was seeping through the gate between the worlds and was now engulfing the raven haired sorceress. 

She mentally cursed the elven sage, for this surely was his doing. If he had laid even a finger on Ciri he would sorely regret it, this she swore to herself. She found herself wishing she could have followed Geralt and hated herself for having been so weak. But there was nothing she could do, and being so powerless enraged her and frustrated her immensely. The shield she had raised to protect herself wavered while she tried to get down the slope that led to Tor Gvalch’ca. 

She had to reach some cover before her magic failed her completely, or she would freeze within minutes. Yennefer found a rocky ledge and slid against it, catching her breath and recovering some of her strength. Then she sprinted, trying not to slip on the frozen ground. The sorceress managed to run for only a short distance though, and then her shield failed and the icy wind hit her with all its strength and made her stagger and fall. 

She got up stubbornly, shielding her eyes and shivering violently. Between the swirling snow and ice splinters she could swear she saw a figure approaching in the distance, or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She had to go on, she had to… Her legs gave up again and she felt herself falling forwards, but someone caught her and lifted her up on a horse. In the blinding storm she could make out a blue coat and a black chaperon. Vernon Roche spurred the horse, but Yen shouted.

“Turn away, we can’t go in there!” 

“Where is Geralt?!”, he yelled above the chaos of the storm. 

“He’s safe! But we are not, turn the horse around!”, Yennefer responded with her commanding tone.

He swore loudly but turned the horse nonetheless, taking them away from the raging Frost.

They rode for a while, leaving the ice and snow behind them. Yennefer could now see the Temerian clearly. His face was bruised and bleeding from a shallow cut on his brow and he winced with every jolt of their mount, holding his side with one hand while trying to hold the reins with the other. 

“Dismount”, she said, “There, near that rock. You are wounded”. 

The fact that he didn’t protest gave her a hint of how much pain he had to be in. She had had time to observe the commander during their journey and knew how much of a pain in the ass he could be with his hot headed temperament and stubbornness. She hopped down from the horse and noticed with slight surprise that it was actually Roach. 

The Temerian got down as best as he could, limped towards the rock and collapsed against it, panting heavily. Yen crouched beside him, touching his side lightly and searched for open wounds. There weren’t any, the trauma must have been internal. He swore when she probed a little more and gritted his teeth in pain. 

“You have broken ribs. Lie down and try to relax”.

He complied. The sorceress’ hands began moving mere inches away from him and she began chanting her incantation. Her face contorted in the effort to summon her magic. Roche felt a wave of warm energy pervade his body and pool on his side. The pain subsided and he found he could breathe more easily now. 

“Thanks, Yennefer”. 

Yen sighed, and laid against the stone too, exhausted. 

“How on earth did you get Geralt’s mare anyway?” 

Roche huffed and rose a bit, tentatively touching his side. 

“She found me actually…I was looking for a way to get to the tower without killing myself in the process or get eaten by a wyvern when she came directly towards me, as if out of nowhere…Intelligent beast”. 

Yen looked at the tower looming over them, concerned. 

“What the hell do you think is going on up there?”, Roche asked. 

“I…”, the sorceress hesitated, as if it was hard for her to admit that, “I have some ideas, but I’m not sure.” 

“Care to enlighten me?” 

“I do not, for it wouldn’t benefit neither of us, and there is nothing we can do. Not for Ciri and not for Geralt.” 

She turned towards him, looking directly into his eyes. Roche felt as if he was transparent, as if Yennefer could read right through his façade and into his thoughts. Her gaze softened and suddenly became very sad. 

“You do really love him, don’t you?”, she asked.

“I beg your p-?” 

“Don’t. Don’t try to fool me. I had already sensed Geralt was hiding something from me. I felt his distance, his thoughts drifting away while he was with me. I suppose I know why now…” 

Yen tried to sound as cold and unaffected as she could. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t’ mean for this to happen…It just…did.” 

“I know.” She said curtly, “Just …take care of him.”

“Just like that?”, he asked. 

“What did you expect me to do? Throw a fit and turn you into a toad? Geralt is…he’s very dear to me. But I won’t beg him to stay, and I won’t put myself in the way. I wish you both the best and that is that.” 

Roche didn’t dare to argue with that.

As the beam shooting out the tower closed, the weather began to normalize itself again. When it was safe enough for the two to get up, the Temerian and the sorceress set out to go up the tower to find Geralt, Ciri and Avallac'h.

Around halfway there, Geralt approached them. Alone. Neither Avallac’h nor Ciri were in sight. That wasn’t a good sign, Roche thought. The Witcher looked devastated, completely in disbelief on what he just witnessed.

“Geralt”, Roche said quietly, reaching out for him, “What happened? Where is Ciri?”

In the usually expressionless, cold eyes of the Witcher, Roche could see… sadness. Geralt was horrified, completely pale, his breath came shallow. 

“The portal”, he begun on the verge of breaking down, “It’s closed. Ciri… didn’t come back out.”

“No”, Yennefer whispered, tearing up. 

Roche stood there as if he was frozen. Geralt and Yennefer, a father and mother, just lost her child. They lost Ciri. 

“She… she went through the portal”, Geralt stammered with trembling lips, “To stop the White Frost. She managed to do it but… wasn’t fast enough…”

“Where’s the elf? Can’t he get her out?”, Roche asked concerned. 

“He teleported away.”

“Fucking whoreson”, Roche cursed.


	24. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months have passed....
> 
> and Bunddy is still shit at summaries.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have forgotten to upload a chapter because Pokémon Go 8'D sorry

The Temerian camp in the middle of the Oxenfurt woods was in full activity. With the cessation of the guerrilla activities and the new peace with Nilfgaard, the soldiers were eager to return to their homes and were beginning to pack their equipment and leave. They drank and toasted to the end of the war, and cheerfully sang around the fires at night. Vernon Roche sat inside, in his usual spot in the cave, unable to take part to the celebrations and unwilling to spoil his men’s morale with his dark mood. The fire warmed his hands as he stared into it, immersed in thought. 

Two months had passed since that damned day on Undvik, and he was far from recovering. So much was lost that day…and not only for him. Yennefer was gone, supposedly far away, in Kovir, having nothing else here left for her. Roche couldn’t help but feel sorry for the sorceress. And Geralt…Geralt had broken all contacts with him…with everyone. Had refused Roche’s help on whatever he was going to do next. Didn’t visit him at the camp either. 

Retreated in himself and just asked to be left alone, Roche looked into the campfire with sad, tired eyes. He missed the Witcher dearly. It felt like yesterday when Geralt confessed his love to him. But yet on the same day, he left him again. He sighed. Hortensio, his lieutenant, burst in the dimly lit cave, visibly distressed. 

“Commander! We found someone!”, he shouted. 

“What?”, Roche groaned and got up to see what it was this time. 

He stepped outside the cave; it took him a while to adjust to the sunlight. As he looked at the man in front of him he couldn’t believe his own eyes. In his arms he held a girl. An ashen haired girl, with a scar on her left cheek. 

“…Ciri!”, he breathed. 

“She just appeared outta nowhere commander, looked at us and then fainted!” 

He took her in his arms but could only make a few steps, his ribs still recovering from his encounter with the Ice Giant. Ves ran towards his and took the girl in his arms. She brought her in the cave and laid her down gently onto one of the makeshift cots, to see to any possible wounds she could have.

“Can’t see any bruises”, Ves said as she inspected Ciri’s body, “She only seems exhausted. We should let her rest, I’ll stay with her.”

“Alright”, he squatted down next to Ves to get a better look at Ciri, “You know… I didn’t tell you what happened on Skellige.”

“Are you finally doing it now? I’ve been worried sick since you’re back, Roche.”

“I know, I know. Well, little Ciri here, she stopped the White Frost from happening. Had to… go through a portal to do so, though. The portal closed and she… didn’t come out again. We all thought she was dead. Geralt and Yennefer were heartbroken. She went to Kovir and Geralt…”, he sighed, “No idea where he is.” 

“Why don’t you know? He’s your best friend after all, isn’t he?”

Roche took a deep breath. He hasn’t told anyone about what happened between him and Geralt.

“What I’m about to tell you is private, alright?”

Ves nodded with a curios look on her face.

“Geralt and I, we were… more than just friends. We…”, he sighed and rubbed his face, “We loved each other. A lot.”

“Are you pulling my leg, Roche?”, Ves asked in disbelief.

“I’m not and lower your voice. Nobody needs to hear this”, he hissed, “He confessed his love for me on the same day as he left again. It… wasn’t easy to say the least.”

Ves stroked her hand up and down Roche’s back and smiled softly.

“After all you’ve been through, it’s not surprising.”

Roche smiled at that. It was true, after all… Their adventures together never really stopped.

Suddenly, Ciri moved on the cot, groaning and rubbing her face.

“Where…Where am I?”, she asked exhausted.

“You’re with us now, Ciri”, Roche spoke softly, “You remember us, right?”

“Yeah...”, she sat up, “Roche? Ves? So… I’m back… I’m back!”

Ciri was full of energy again, happy to finally be back home. Roche and Ves smiled at her. 

“Is Geralt with you, too?”, she asked full of anticipation.

“I’m afraid I don’t know where he is”, Roche admitted with a sad tone. 

“We have to find him!”, Ciri exclaimed determined.

She wanted to get out the cot but was held down by Ves’ strong arms. She didn’t put a lot of effort in holding Ciri down. The ashen haired woman was barely strong enough to sit up straight.

“Whatever you did while you were gone weakened you. Rest, Ciri”, Ves said softly.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest.

“Roche”, Ciri spoke again, “Can you do anything to track him down?”

He thought for a second. 

“I’ll send some of my men into Oxenfurt, Novigrad and Crow’s Perch to ask about him.”

Roche marched off, shouting at some of his men and commanding them to look for Geralt and ask about him in the cities. They saluted and trotted out the camp. He decided to leave Ves and Ciri alone for now and sat back down at the fire. Roche smoked his pipe to calm his nerves. Ciri was alive. Roche felt relief for Geralt; he had his daughter back again. Now, they only needed to find him and contact Yennefer as well, to tell them the good news. As he finished smoking his pipe, he tucked it away in his pocket and joined the two women again. They were already happily conversing with each other, as if they knew each other for years.

“Roche, you wouldn’t believe where she’s been”, Ves exclaimed as he entered the makeshift hospital again.

Ciri told them she tried hopping into the portal but just as she reached it, it closed. She proceeded to wander around, almost freezing to death, looking for another one. After no other portal opened, she took all her strength and focused really hard to escape and get back home. But instead of Novigrad or Oxenfurt or even Kaer Morhen, she found herself in a foreign world. 

“Needless to say, one world was stranger than the other”, Ciri said, while telling them about her journey.

Roche decided to leave her and Ves alone again to see after his men. He knew Ciri and Ves could get along well. She seemed to be mesmerized by Ciri’s stories. 

“Ok, now that Roche is gone”, Ciri continued with a smile, “I gotta tell you about this one world.”

“I’m all ears”, Ves answered excitedly. 

“So, I found myself in a world, where people drove in really small black… wagons. They drove all by themselves without horses or anything.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No! And the best has yet to come”, Ciri said and lifted her finger, “The people there spoke our language, but with a weird accent. And some wore these black… uniforms I think. But not out of metal like knights, but out of fabric and also with really weird high hats. I walked around the town a little; it smelled of smoke everywhere because of these wagons. Then I saw a man. With this black uniform. He was really tall with broad shoulders and blue, piercing eyes. And when he talked he sounded exactly like Roche!”

“Exactly like Roche? How do you mean that?”

“The voice was just one and the same. He also commanded other people in uniforms around!”

“Are you serious? This is ridiculous! I always thought you wouldn’t find another man like Roche. Guess I was wrong”, Ves laughed.

The two women were talking until late at night. When Roche came to check up on them, Ves fell asleep next to Ciri on the cot. He smiled softly at them. Roche knew they would get along well. From one of the trunks he pulled out a blanket and covered them, careful not to wake them up.

Ciri and Ves awoke simultaneously at dawn. Sunrays shined through little cracks and gaps onto the two women. Ves stretched herself; having slept half-sitting made her back hurt a little. Ciri sat up and eyes Ves curiously. She noticed her shirt underneath her jacket was open and she didn’t wear a bra. The ashen haired woman blushed and quickly looked away. Ves didn’t seem to notice, luckily. 

“You feeling any better?”, she asked. 

“A little, yeah”, Ciri smiled back.

During the next few days, Ciri and Ves bonded. They practiced outside with bow and arrow, sharpened their crossbow skills and did the occasional sword fight. In between their training sessions they usually sat on top of the cave, looking towards Oxenfurt and chatting. 

Later that week, Roche’s men came back after looking for Geralt. Roche awaited them at the entrance of the camp.

“Any news?”, he asked with anticipation.

“The Witcher was sighted near Novigrad, supposedly head off to Crow’s Perch”, the soldier replied out of breath. He must’ve jogged the whole way back from Novigrad to here. 

“Crows Perch? Let’s go there quickly”, Ciri said determined. The girl must’ve sneaked up on Roche; he didn’t hear her coming at all.

“Are you strong enough, Ciri?”, he asked.

“I am. Let’s just go! I’ll teleport us to Crow’s Perch; we can ask around there, if they’ve seen Geralt.”

“Portals? Really?”, Roche asked annoyed. He knew why Geralt hated portals. After teleporting he always felt sick for at least an hour.

Ciri rolled her eyes at the comment of the commander, took him by the hand and teleported them to Crow’s Perch.


	25. Saviors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche and Ciri hurry into the bog...

With a flash, the portal opened at Crow’s Perch and the young woman and the Temerian stepped outside. Roche had to hold his stomach, feeling nauseous like fuck. Ciri shook his head a little and marched inside, the commander right behind her. 

Guards greeted them at the bridge, letting them through. Inside the small settlement, people were hanging up their clothes to dry in the sun, kids were playing in the mud and geese and chicken were running around all over the place. 

Peasants with shocked expressions eyed the two of them up and down. Their eyes stopped at Roche’s medallion, noticing the Temerian Lilies. They didn’t seem like they’ve noticed the war was over, yet. 

Roche and Ciri made their way through the muddy path to the castle, people were greeting her left and right.

“You know these people?”, Roche asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes, I stayed here for a bit after I fled through the bog. They patched me up here and I saved the Baron’s life, too!”

“How did you do that? Stop him from drinking himself to death?”, the commander chuckled.

“No”, she rolled her eyes, “A basilisk attacked after I beat him in a horse race. I killed it but had to leave shortly afterwards. I used my teleport to get to it on that tower over there. With that I only put the people here in unnecessary danger because of the Hunt, so I left on the same day.”

“They sure trained you well at Kaer Morhen, didn’t they?”

The Sergeant who ruled Crow’s Perch in the absence of the Baron greeted them stiffly. He recognized Ciri, but eyed Roche warily. 

“Not another trouble raiser I hope”, he said in a harsh tone. 

“Not to worry, Sergeant, we are merely looking for someone”, Ciri answered. 

But after they asked him about Geralt, he flinched slightly and cursed. The way he put it, Geralt – or as he called him, “that mad devil” - had stormed in the settlement, cutting down a dozen of his men who apparently were doing “absolutely nothing” only to disappear shortly after in the direction of Crookback Bog, merely a day before. 

Roche would have bet his beloved chaperon that the sergeant’s men were hardly innocent, but still that was a pretty reckless and careless act even for Geralt. To throw himself in a fight, alone against so many heavily armed soldiers…He felt fear swelling inside him. 

“We should hurry”, he whispered to Ciri. 

She threw him a worried glance and nodded. They managed to convince the sergeant to lend them two horses and rode quickly towards the bog.

“What would he be doing in that wretched swamp anyway?”, Roche asked, more to himself than to anyone in particular, but to his surprise, Ciri had an answer to that. 

“I think he intends to kill the last of the Crones”. 

“I thought you had killed them all, at the Sabbath…” 

“Well, no…One of them survived…Turned herself into a flock of ravens and just disappeared…And she took Vesemir’s medallion, too. Maybe Geralt wanted to retrieve it…To have a…Memento? Roche you don’t think…?” 

“He’s fine, you’ll see, he has a tough skin you know that”, he tried to sound reassuring but he couldn’t control the slight tremor in his voice. 

He spurred the horse to go as fast as the damned swampy ground allowed him and tried not to think about what they could expect. 

They proceeded far slower than both of them would have liked to due to the uneven and boggy ground. Ciri was far beyond flustered. 

“Why didn’t you try to find him all this time?”, her voice was nervous and full of concern, “Weren’t you friends??” 

“Ciri…” 

“What kind of friend leaves a man to grieve alone??”

“Ciri, please!”, Roche interrupted the young woman’s rant. 

He didn’t mean to be harsh, he understood how she felt, all too well. 

“I DID try to find him, and find him I did, mere days after your…departure. But he drove me away. Said he didn’t need nor want the company of anyone, that he needed time on his own…What was I supposed to do?” 

Ciri grew quiet and looked at him, noticing for the first time since her return how thinner he looked. He seemed weary, stressed out. But the war was over, why would he be… Realization hit her out of the blue, and she cursed herself for being so blind. 

“You’re in love with him!”, she found herself exclaiming, before she was able to stop. 

She probably expected him to deny, to be embarrassed or angry…She certainly didn’t expect to see the commander’s shoulders sag and to hear him sigh heavily, tightening his grip on the reins. He slowly looked at her and Ciri’s heart sank for she saw an immense sadness in his eyes. He lowered his head, then simply nodded.

“Does Geralt know? I mean, that you…” 

“He does”, he sighed. 

They were silent for a few, heavy minutes. 

“Roche…”, he turned, prepared to face her scorn or her pity at best, but Ciri was smiling softly, even if her eyes were still full of concern. 

“We’ll find him, you’ll see”. 

She took his hand and squeezed lightly as they rode in the swamp.

 

The Weavess’ head rolled on the damp ground of the Bog, spurting blood all around, her body contorted and collapsed, finally still. Geralt, breathing heavily, didn’t even bother to clean his blade from the blood that was dripping from it. He searched the disgusting, deformed body of the Crone, then, not having found what he sought, hastily made his way to the main building. The Crone’s words still tore at his heart, or what remained of it. 

“Ziraeal is dead. Naught but a small frozen corpse in an icy wilderness”. 

He searched the small building, toppling jars and bowls, looking in every nook, desperately. He noticed a small locked chest and smashed it to the ground with all the strength he could muster and amidst its remains he spotted the wolf’s head medallion. Tears sprung up in his eyes as he picked it up. He sat heavily on a bench, head in his hands. The emptiness he felt inside him was swallowing him whole. If Ciri was gone…what did his life even mean? If Ciri was gone, how was he supposed to go on?

He didn’t know how long he stood there; clasping the medallion in his hands. Time didn’t really matter to him anymore. After Undvik he had made his way through Skellige and back to Velen slashing and killing every single monster he met. Drowners, Ghouls, Arachas. But most of all, humans. He was the butcher of Blaviken after all, had to live up to his fame, he thought bitterly. 

A fleeting shadow passed in his field of view and he glanced at the door of the hut, from which he could see the red light of sunset. He caught a distinct stench of decay and rotting corpses and rasping, gurgling sounds. Necrophages, lots of them. He got up slowly, picked up his sword. On one thing the Crone was right. He did seek death. In the hut, in the middle of the swamp, he waited. 

Slash, feint, evade, pirouette, slash. His movements were automatic; he didn’t even bother to cast signs. Drowners and ghouls clawed at him, tearing at his leather armor. He cut them down, one by one. He knew they were too many. He knew that, eventually, he would make a mistake. He didn’t care. 

Ciri and Roche nearly threw themselves off their saddles and ran towards the little settlement in the swamp weapons ready. Monstrous creatures surrounded one of the buildings and from inside they could hear sounds of a fight. They charged, not even thinking of a strategy, their only thought was to get to Geralt as fast as they could.

Roche’s sword flashed, he fought with a strength and a determination he never thought he had, not even against Iorveth had he been capable of what he was doing right now. Ciri slashed through drowners and ghouls like butter, she bolted from enemy to enemy in a flash of light. Roche couldn’t even see her at times, he just saw the spurts of blood from the monsters’ bodies. 

Inside the hut dead necrophages lied in piles and yet the smell of blood only excited their brethren even more. Geralt started to feel dizzy. The cuts and bites he had got were nothing major but the blood loss from all of them combined was slowly taking its toll. He should have drunk a potion, but it had her name…Swallow…Ziraeal. He slit one ghoul’s belly, the beast collapsed with a horrid sound, but another replaced it, jumping at him. He was slow. Too slow. The ghoul was on him, clawing, tearing. 

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t anymore. Geralt opened his eyes. Then closed them again. He was hallucinating. Had to be. When he reopened them though, Ciri was still on the door frame, panting. The last of the drowners dead at her feet. He lifted himself up, steadying against a wooden pillar. 

Sihil and Ziraeal both clattered on the floor, forgotten. And suddenly he was brought back in Sodden again, at the merchant’s home. Just like then, when he had given up all his hopes, Ciri had run in his arms. Just like then she was now hugging him tightly and the Witcher was actually crying as he hugged her back, held onto her for dear life, held her to make sure that she was real, that she was not born of his imagination. She laughed as he spun her around like he did when she was but a child. He looked at her and kissed her forehead. He wanted to speak but couldn’t. There would have been time to ask, to be told, to tell and to explain soon. Ciri looked back at him, radiant. Then her gaze shifted behind him and he turned to follow it. On the same doorstep where Ciri was moments ago, stood Vernon Roche, covered in ghoul’s blood, smiling like Geralt had never seen him smile before and wiping an unwilling tear from his face. Ciri nudged at Geralt and nodded encouragingly. 

He limped slightly towards the other man. There were so many things he wanted to tell him. He stood in front of him, not quite knowing what to do with himself, suddenly unsure. 

“I’m sor-“, he began, but was cut off from Vernon’s sudden embrace. 

As he hugged him back he buried his face in the Temerian’s neck and held him tight, still not believing what was happening. They parted slightly and Geralt looked into his lover’s eyes. Roche cupped his cheek, stubborn tears of joy making their way down his cheeks. Then their foreheads met and they stood like that for what seemed ages, their breaths mingling. And when they both leaned forward and their lips touched there was nothing left between them, no objection nor alibi or insecurity, no doubt. Just the two of them. Well, and Ciri, who looked at them and smiled fondly.


	26. At Crow's Perch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche & Co. go back to Crow's Perch to get some well deserved.... rest. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, we're nearing the part we're still working on :'D Al and I got lazy and... well... Overwatch got in the way... and Pokémon Go! :D Oh man, I hope we can get something done tonight xD

The trio sat in the open for a while, catching their breaths. Roche was gently treating the Witcher’s shallow cuts with one of his salves while Ciri told him about her adventures and misadventures in the other worlds. The light of the day was fading out quickly so they decided to head back to Crow’s Perch. Ciri sat behind Geralt, her head resting on her father’s shoulders while she dozed off. Geralt and Roche chatted quietly so as not to disturb her. 

When they finally arrived it was already dark. The soldiers recognized Geralt and quickly drew away to let them pass. The lesson he had given them was still fresh in their minds. They dismounted in the main yard and Ciri sleepily exchanged a few words with the Sergeant, who allowed them to stay and even gave them rooms to sleep in, even if he kept looking at Geralt with wary eyes.

As they entered the small castle, a guard showed them to their rooms. Ciri bid them both good night and vanished into hers. It was the same room she stayed in before. Roche shot Geralt a look, signaling him to come into his domains once everyone was asleep. The Witcher understood and nodded with a sly smile. 

A good hour later as Geralt didn’t hear any footsteps nearby anymore, he quickly sneaked out of his room into Roche’s. The Temerian was waiting for him, sprawled out on the bed in only his underwear. Geralt chuckled as he eyed him hungrily. The Witcher was only in a shirt and his trousers, just in case somebody saw him in the hallways. But he quickly tossed his clothes away while making his way towards the bed. He kneeled down next to Roche on it, now also only in his underwear. 

“Took you long enough to come here”, Roche whispered.

“I’m so sorry”, Geralt said, “I shouldn’t have brushed you off. Shouldn’t have broken off all contact. That was stupid of me.”

“Don’t think about that anymore”, Roche replied and slowly dragged Geralt’s head down for a kiss. 

Finally. After all this time of worrying and thinking about “What if’s”, Roche had the Witcher and his soft lips back. It felt like their first kiss all over again. A little sloppy at first, they had to get used to each other again, but once they found their rhythm, it felt so good and so right. Roche moaned softly and opened his mouth for Geralt’s tongue. 

“God”, the Witcher drew away to catch his breath, “I missed that so much. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, Geralt. There wasn’t a day I spent without thinking about you”, Roche said as he stroked over Geralt’s cheek with his thumb. 

Geralt purred a little like a cat as the Temerian stroked through his beard.

“I love you”, he said.

“I love you, too”, Roche replied.

Geralt picked the Temerian up softly and placed him in his lap. They made out for a while, tongues dancing with each other, teeth sometimes clacking. Roche could finally enjoy the feeling of the Witcher against him again. And this time, no worries, no doubts about what might be. They would stay together forever, he just knew it. 

After they both had to stop kissing to get their labored breathing under control, Roche just hugged Geralt. The Witcher hugged him back tightly and so they were just sitting on top of each other. Foreheads pressed together, noses rubbing on one another, never breaking eye contact. Geralt stroked up and down Roche’s back, while the smaller man played with his white mane. It felt so good to just sit there like that, Roche thought. Happy and content and nothing in the world mattered at the moment. He had his Geralt back and nobody could ruin this moment for him.

“I love you”, he whispered into the Witcher’s ear again.

“I love you too, Vernon.”

Roche gave him a light peck on the lips, then on the nose, on the chin and everywhere else he could reach, making Geralt smile. 

“Seems like years ago we did this the last time”, Geralt said, stroking some of Roche’s hair behind his ear.

Roche nodded, giving him one last kiss. He then untangled himself from the Witcher’s embrace and moved lower and lower, trailing kisses down from his sternum to the waistband of his underwear. 

He drew the pants down slowly, never breaking eye contact with Geralt. His face was already flushed, his pupils blown wide as he followed every of Roche’s movements. Roche tossed the Witcher’s and his own underwear to the side and took Geralt’s cock in his hand. He moved his hand up and down lazily, adoring the reactions he already got out of his partner.

“I missed you so much”, Roche whispered, “Missed your taste, too.”

He smiled at Geralt and slowly lowered his head over the Witcher’s erection, making him twitch in anticipation. Carefully he closed his lips around the head, tasting the salty fluid that was already dripping out. Roche hummed and moved lower and lower, hollowing his cheeks as best he could. He licked up and down Geralt’s shaft, trying out how this whole… thing. This time he wouldn’t draw back. He wanted Geralt to feel good. The moans he got in return were worth every gag he had to hold back.

Geralt gripped the sheets with one hand and Roche’s hair with the other, guiding his head softly up and down. He didn’t force him to but the Temerian got the hint to go faster. The Witcher threw his head back and closed his eyes, moaning and enjoying the sensation of Roche’s tongue around his head. 

“Vernon”, Geralt sighed, “I want you, right now.”

Roche hummed, then released Geralt’s cock out of his mouth with a wet pop. He crawled back up on the Witcher and kissed him passionately. They kept kissing and stroking all over each other, wanting the other to be as close as possible. Needing the other to be as close as possible. Geralt flipped them both over slowly, looking at the man below him. Seeing Roche so happy and needy made his heart skip a beat. He kissed him once more, then guided the Temerian’s legs around his waist. 

“Didn’t we use oil or something last time?”, Roche interrupted before Geralt could even line himself up.

“Do you see any here?”, Geralt replied, quirking an eyebrow.

“I guess I’ll survive without it, too”, Roche sighed, “Let’s hope I won’t have to limp half the day afterwards again.”

Geralt bent down, whispering into Roche’s ear.

“But the feeling is worth it, isn’t it?”

“Y…Yeah..”, Roche shuddered. 

Geralt’s low raspy voice did things to his body he couldn’t describe. He could listen to this man for hours and not get tired. Geralt looked at Roche thoughtful.

“What is it, Geralt?”

“I have an idea… Maybe it won’t hurt too much afterwards. Flip over”, he told Roche. 

Roche looked at him perplexed but did so nonetheless. As he lied there on his stomach, Geralt carefully guided him to lift his hips up a little and put a pillow underneath Roche. 

“That comfortable?”, he asked and gave him a small peck on his right butt cheek. 

“Yes”, Roche chuckled at the silly gesture.

Geralt smiled, then lined himself up once more. He was careful to push inside, didn’t want to hurt Roche at all. But the slower he went, the more Roche pushed his ass against him, making delicious whiny sounds. Geralt grinned and drew back a little.

“What are you doing?”, Roche asked impatiently and moved his ass up more.

“Just teasing”, Geralt chuckled, “You’re cute like that.”

“I’m not cute!”

Geralt had to hold back his laughter. Roche did look adorable like that, though. His face was all flushed with lust and he tried to look angrily at Geralt, but couldn’t. He was already so fucked up out of his mind that he could only whine. 

“Come on, Vernon”, he said, “How much do you want it?”

“What?”

“Beg.”

“You can’t be serious right now.”

“I am”, Geralt stated, crossing his arms and leaning back.

Roche looked behind himself. The way Geralt sat there on the back of his heels with his arms crossed, that self-satisfied grin and his cock standing proudly in front of him made his mouth water. He rolled his eyes. Fine, he’ll beg. But just this once.

“Please, Geralt”, he said in the neediest tone he could muster, “I need you inside me. Right now. I’ve waited so long for this, please.”

Geralt grinned, his cock twitched. He leaned down once more and gave Roche a kiss between his shoulder blades, then finally pushed inside. Roche let out a ragged moan he had to muffle with the other pillow that lied on the bed. Geralt pushed slowly but steadily all the way in, burying himself inside the Temerian.

“Oh GOD, Geralt”, Roche moaned loudly into the pillow. 

Even through the fabric, Roche’s words were loud and clearly needy as hell. Those sounds turned Geralt on even more and he set for a steady pace. He listened to Roche’s delicious noises as his ass met Geralt’s cock over and over again.

Geralt leaned down, kissing and biting Roche’s neck, making him moan even louder into the pillow. The Temerian turned his head to kiss Geralt. His moans and whines were muffled by Geralt’s tongue invading his mouth once more as the Witcher sped his pace up brutally.

“Geralt”, Roche sighed, “Geralt please, oh god, please!”

“I love you, Vernon.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m, aah, not going to last much longer.”

“Just give it to me”, the Temerian whined, “Pound into me, come inside me, I don’t care!”

Roche shot him a needy look and Geralt couldn’t help himself. He slammed into Roche as hard as he could, almost screaming of pleasure as he came inside the Temerian. Roche followed shortly afterwards, making his muscles around Geralt’s over-sensitive cock spasm. 

Geralt, completely out of breath, drew out of Roche and collapsed next to him. He gently stroked over the Temerian’s cheek with his thumb and smiled softly at him.

“I missed you, Geralt”, he whispered.

“Missed you, too.”

Roche snuggled up to the Witcher, putting his head on the scarred chest. He then quickly remembered the mess Geralt left inside of him as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Geralt…”

“Right”, the Witcher said and got out the bed quickly to look for a piece of cloth.

He looked around the small room, finding nothing to clean Roche up with. On the shelves were only a few small half empty bottles, the drawers were all empty. Geralt groaned in annoyance. 

“I can’t find anything”, he stated and sat back down on the bed, “Just… use the bed sheets I suppose. We’ll be gone by tomorrow anyway.”

“I guess you’re right”, Roche shrugged and wiped himself clean on the sheets. 

He quickly crawled back on top of the Witcher to cuddle him. Roche had his head on Geralt’s chest once more, listening to his heartbeat and breathing. After what felt like an eternity, Geralt broke the silence.

“How did you find me, anyway?”

“You might be one of the best trackers I know, but not the only one”, Roche chuckled.

“Tracker, huh?”

The Temerian shrugged with a grin. After a while of exchanging small kisses, touches and smiles they fell into a deep sleep, finally together again.


	27. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Roche have to clean up after last night... but Geralt was thinking about other things already again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys u.u Al and I finished the fic last night. 
> 
> We feel empty inside but we're happy with how it turned out. Sooo prepare yourselves :D

Roche awoke the next morning as the first sunrays shined into the windows of his room. He slowly opened his eyes to see the Witcher still sleeping like a stone. Carefully he caressed his cheek, softly stroking through his beard. Geralt hummed and stretched his arms, then finally opened his eyes. He smiled at the man on top of him and gave him a kiss.

“Morning”, the still not fully woken up Witcher said.

“Morning, Geralt”, Roche replied softly.

After just staring into each other’s eyes like two lovesick children, they realized how dirty and sweaty they actually were. You could clearly smell the necrophage-blood, sweat and other fluids from last night on their skin.

“You stink”, the Witcher said with a smirk.

“And you don’t?”, Roche shot back at him.

“Come on, Vernon, get us a bathtub”, Geralt whined as he slowly rolled him and the Temerian on their sides. 

“Everything for you”, Roche chuckled and got up to retrieve his underwear. 

He threw Geralt’s own pair in his face, eliciting a laugh from the Witcher and then made his way outside to find a maid or whoever else was available. He stuck his head out the door and saw a young woman cleaning the hallway. 

“You”, he shouted at her in his commanding voice, “Get the biggest tub you have in here with nice hot water!”

“Of…of course, sire”, the woman replied a little scared.

Roche nodded at her and turned around again to join Geralt on the bed once more. As he sat down next to him, the Witcher put his arm around his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Anyone ever tell you how loud you snore?”, Roche asked.

“So do you”, Geralt laughed, “And that even louder than me, I’m sure of it!”

“Pah”, Roche retorted, “Fight me about it, Witcher!”

And with that, Geralt pushed the Temerian on his back and straddled his hips, looking at him. The Witcher smiled evilly at the man below, then held his wrists tight with his right hand. With the left he started to tickle Roche, making him laugh loudly and squirm underneath him.

“Geralt”, he screamed out of breath between laughs, “Stop that! Ahahaha!”

“You said you wanted to fight, you’re getting a fight!”

Roche yelled about this fight being unfair, tried to kick Geralt off of him but to no avail. The tickling made his muscles weak. He swore everyone in the castle would’ve heard them by now. Luckily a knock on the door made the Witcher stop his torture.

“Come on in”, Geralt chuckled, still on top of Roche.

The woman, who brought the tub of hot water in, eyed the two men messing with each other and blushed. She put the bathtub full of water on the ground, left some soap, towels and a wash cloth for them and quickly scurried away.

Their gaze followed her outside; as she closed the door behind herself they looked at each other again and started laughing loudly. While Geralt was distracted by his own laughter, Roche saw an opportunity and kicked the Witcher off of him. Now Geralt was on his back, still laughing a little, and Roche could finally sit up straight again.

“You go in first”, Roche chuckled, “No way we’re both fitting in that thing.”

“Alright, alright”, Geralt said and lowered himself into the tub, “Can you see to my wounds, please?”

Roche nodded and squatted down behind the Witcher. He carefully dabbed the wet wash cloth onto the cuts and bites Geralt received while being in the bog. 

“Beasts got you good here”, Roche addressed dryly while tending to an especially deep bite mark.

“Didn’t care at the time. Had no reason to continue living so why bother, you know?”

“I’m so glad we found you.”

Geralt winced. Roche must’ve scratched the cut open with the cloth. He gave the Witcher a small kiss as an apology on the shoulder and looked at him with big eyes.

“You ok, Geralt?”

“Yeah”, he replied with a small smile. 

Roche continued to wash the Witcher’s back, careful not to hurt him again. The scars from the whiplashes he received at La Valette castle were still clearly visible. Guilt shot through his stomach again. He gently kissed up and down the scars, hoping Geralt would know what he meant. The Witcher didn’t comment on it, just enjoyed the feeling. That had to be enough, he thought. 

Roche leaned over Geralt’s shoulder to give him a proper kiss. As he wanted to draw back to clean him up more, though, Geralt directed his gaze towards his muscled chest and stomach. Roche admired the sight, of course, then looked back at Geralt, who looked at him with pure desire. 

“You want this?”, he whispered into the Temerian’s ear.

“Of course”, he replied hoarsely. 

“Then get in here.”

“There’s no way I can fit in there with your legs taking up all the space”, Roche scoffed.

“Who says you have to sit ACROSS from me”, Geralt replied with a smirk and petted himself on the legs, signaling Roche to sit on his lap.

Roche rolled his eyes and sighed but got in anyway. After all, he was just as dirty as the Witcher and he wanted to enjoy the water while it was still hot. He got out of his underwear again and slowly lowered himself onto the Witcher’s lap. The water almost splashed over the edges of the tub as he sat down completely, his back pressed against Geralt’s chest. The Witcher’s arms snaked around his chest, holding him close. 

“You’re thinner than I remember. What happened?”, Geralt asked concerned out of nowhere.

“I…”, Roche sighed, “I was so worried about you I barely ate. But it’s alright. I didn’t like how I looked anyway.”

“Oh shut it, Vernon”, the Witcher snapped, “You’re perfect the way you are.”

Roche smiled at that and leaned back against Geralt’s chest. The Witcher murmured sweet nothings into his ear, caressing every inch of Roche he could reach. He kissed the Temerian’s neck, stroked over his biceps, then chest and stomach. Roche hummed and started to relax more and more. As he was slowly dozing off, the Witcher’s hand suddenly travelled lower and lower, stroking over his still soft cock. 

“What are you doing, Geralt?”, Roche merely whispered.

“What does it look like?”, he replied, gently kissing up and down his neck. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of Geralt’s hands on his hardening cock. Geralt moved his hand slowly up and down, with his right he fondled with the Temerian’s balls, making him let out a small moan. Roche tried to reach for Geralt’s member but was stopped by him.

“Geralt, I want—“

“Just enjoy it, this is only for you. No need for payback”, the Witcher whispered and kept stroking him.

Roche nodded, closing his eyes again. Geralt’s hands felt so nice around him. In the two months they’ve been separated from each other, Roche never touched himself. He was too worried and he thought it wouldn’t feel as good when he did it himself than if Geralt did it. Roche took the Witcher’s right hand between his own two, squeezing and holding them. 

Geralt sped his pace up a little, making the commander hum in pleasure. Roche let out a moan as the Witcher’s thumb brushed over the head of his cock. 

“Geralt”, he sighed, barely audible. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Roche’s thighs started to tremble, his abdomen was clenching. He was getting close. But the speed the Witcher was going with right now would never get him off.

“Geralt, please go faster”, he sighed.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you”, Geralt teased.

“Don’t make me beg again”, Roche whined.

“I can stop completely, too, if you want”, the Witcher smirked.

The Temerian groaned. Not again, he thought. Roche thought it to be humiliating to beg every time he was getting pleasured by Geralt. But then again, it had something filthy to it. Something that turned him on even more. Fuck it, he thought. Just one more time.

“Geralt”, he breathed, “Please go faster. I need it. I need you, I need to come, please!”

The Witcher chuckled and nibbled on Roche’s earlobe, making him moan. 

“Are you sensitive there?”

“Ah, a little I suppose”, he managed to reply between moans and sighs.

“Where else?”

“Uhm…”, thinking took longer than usual for Roche; all his blood was in his cock, not in his head, “Inner… inner thighs.”

Roche released Geralt’s hand he’d been gripping for the last moments and held tight onto the Witcher’s biceps. The Witcher’s free hand wandered between his legs again, stroking over the soft skin of Roche’s thighs, eliciting a deep groan from the man. Geralt sped up the pace on his cock once more, almost making Roche scream of pleasure. He kept kissing the Temerian’s neck and occasionally nibbled on his earlobe, turning him into a moaning, whining mess.

“Oh god, Geralt”, he moaned loudly, “Let me come already, I can’t take it!”

“I’m missing one word”, the Witcher growled into his ear.

“You can’t be fucking serious about this!”

Geralt stopped all his movements at once. Roche whined at the loss of friction. He turned his head to look at the Witcher with his needy chestnut eyes.

“Please Geralt”, he moaned.

On that, the Witcher grinned, giving him a sloppy kiss and moved his hand, gripping harder and going faster than before. Roche’s abdomen clenched, his thighs started shaking violently. He threw his head from one side to the other, seeking his release. Geralt successfully turned him into a begging, moaning mess. And the worst part was, Roche loved every second of it. He felt his release nearing and dug his nails into the Witcher’s arms. 

“Geralt”, he breathed heavily, “Geralt I’m going to...”

And with a shout that could probably be heard in the whole castle he came into Geralt’s hands and over his stomach. The Witcher stroked him through the rest of his orgasm until he softened and became over-sensitive.

Roche slumped back against Geralt’s chest, trying to get his labored breathing under control, while the Witcher kissed up and down his neck.

“Thank you, Geralt”, he whispered, “Are you sure you don’t want anything in return?”

“I’m sure of it, Vernon”, Geralt said between kisses, “You still need to clean up properly though.”

“But with all that mess in the water?”

“It’ll dissolve”, Geralt chuckled.

The Witcher took the wash cloth into his hand and rubbed some soap onto it. He washed Roche’s back, chest, arms and the rest of him softly. The Temerian wasn’t too comfortable with the water anymore but didn’t complain any further. Geralt washing him clean was calming. Finally, as they both were clean and the water got cold, they got out, drying themselves with the towels the young woman brought.

After they both got dressed properly, they kissed one last time before leaving their room and mess behind. They wouldn’t come here again anyway, Geralt said while walking out. 

Ciri awaited them outside already, readying their two horses.

“Awake already?”, Geralt greeted her.

“Yes, for two hours, actually. I wanted to get you out of bed but…”, she looked at Roche with a knowing look, “You seemed… busy. So I didn’t want disturb you.”

“Oh god”, Roche hid his face in his hands, while Geralt chuckled embarrassed. 

“This time, you two can share a horse”, Ciri announced. 

“Fine”, Geralt replied, “Let’s head out.”

“Wait”, Roche interrupted, “We get to keep the horses?”

“I asked about them and the sergeant seemed a little… too intimidated to say no”, Ciri stated, “Because of Geralt and the ‘angry looking man’ he said.”

“Alright then”, Geralt said, “You’re sitting behind me, Angry-Looking-Man.”

Roche rolled his eyes and then got onto the horse behind the Witcher, holding onto his waist. And finally, they were back on their way.


	28. White Lilies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche and Geralt are headed for Wyzima. The city changed a lot since their last visit together...

“Geralt”, Ciri said after they rode for a while, “I have to go to Kovir. To find Yennefer. She has to know that I’m not… well, dead.”

“Good idea. But how are you going to get there? Teleportation or the classic way?”

“I’ll go by horse. Besides, I want to take somebody with me, if that’s ok for you, Roche”, Ciri said and looked at him.

“What do you mean?”, Roche asked confused, still sitting behind the Witcher and holding onto his waist.

“I wanted to pick up Ves and travel together with her.”

“Well”, the commander sighed, “I guess I can’t say no now, can I? She’d go with you even if I wouldn’t allow it.”

Geralt chuckled, Ciri smiled brightly and Roche couldn’t help but smile back at her. He was happy Ves had somebody to talk to, who isn’t constantly staring at her chest for once. 

“So, where are you two headed now?”

“I’ll go wherever Roche wants”, Geralt replied.

Roche’s heart skipped a beat at that. He was so happy about the Witcher’s reply that he couldn’t help but give him a kiss on the cheek. Ciri gave them a warm smile.

“I have to go to Wyzima again. Temeria is finally a free country again, so Anais La Valette will be awaited to take the throne very soon.”

“Anais? Isn’t she too young for that?”, the Witcher asked perplexed.

“We’ll settle everything once we’re there. Right now, let’s just hope she gets there safely. But, Geralt”, Roche started a little cautious, “Where will you be when I’m busy in Wyzima again? Because I’ll have to stay there, at least for a while.”

“Well, I suppose they can spare a room with a nice bed in the castle for you and me. As I said, I’ll go wherever you want to go”, Geralt replied smiling.

Geralt actually wanted to stay with him, Roche thought happily. He would have never guessed the Witcher would actually do that. Even after all they’ve been through, he couldn’t help but be paranoid about Geralt leaving. He cursed himself for his paranoia, even though it saved his life on more than one occasion, then squeezed the Witcher lightly as a sign of affection. 

During their journey they kept to the river, passing the occasional small village. Luckily the weather held up; it was nice and sunny with a slight breeze. Travelling as two grown men on the same horse wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but Roche didn’t mind as long as he was with Geralt. Ciri talked with them a lot – especially about Ves. She told the Witcher how Ves taught her how to use bow and arrow, practiced shooting with a crossbow and how they sometimes engaged in small sword fights. Geralt noticed a shine in his daughter’s eyes. A shine he saw in Roche’s eyes on the boat, on the icy fields on Skellige and now every time he looks at the man. Maybe his little girl fell in love with Ves. Not surprising, he thought, seeing they were very similar to each other. Together, nothing would stand in their way. Because everyone would be too intimidated to do so. Geralt chuckled at the thought, which made Ciri stop talking.

“Why are you laughing?”, she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Nothing. Just glad you’re here and happy”, Geralt replied smiling warmly.

Ciri shook her head but shot him a smile back, then turned around to focus on the road again. 

After a few days with little rests, Ciri had to bid the two men farewell for now. She turned north to travel through Oxenfurt. Before she wanted to pick Ves up, though, she wanted to write a letter to Dandelion, informing him and her other friends in Novigrad that she and Geralt were ok and she was on her way to Kovir to meet with Yennefer. Ciri didn’t want them to worry about her any more than they already did in the past few months. 

Geralt and Roche - still on the same horse - travelled further to the southwest. On the rest of their way, they’ve watched Nilfgaardian troops finally leave Temeria. Emhyr did keep his promise, Roche was glad. Hell, “glad” didn’t even describe it. He couldn’t be happier at that sight. 

Roche thought about what lied ahead of him in Wyzima. First, all Nilfgaardian decoration would have to get thrown out to make room for white lilies on blue ground again. Somebody else had to do that, though, because he would have to deal with more important matters. Thaler and John Natalis were probably already there, discussing political business and trade routes. 

First he’d have to assign guardsmen again. Roche remembered how they were set up in Wyzima like he helped Foltest arrange them yesterday. His eyes suddenly shot wide open.

Foltest. 

He’d have to go back to cemetery to check up on the grave. 

“Something wrong?”, Geralt asked out of the blue. The Witcher must have sensed Roche’s heartbeat quickening.

“Nothing, nothing”, Roche replied hastily, “Before we go into the castle, though, could we go to the cemetery?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Geralt.”

“So, what exactly are you going to do now that Temeria is free again? Going back to hunting Scoia’tael?”, the Witcher asked with a chuckle.

“No”, Roche rolled his eyes, “I mean, yes, if they cause trouble again. But right now, the only thing that matters is Temeria.”

“Of course.”

“And as long as Anais is too young, we will teach her everything she needs to know, while managing everything in the country. Once she is old enough, she will take the throne.”

“With you at her side?”

“Yes, and maybe… maybe even a Court-Witcher?”

“If you’re staying there, I’ll stay there, too.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Vernon.”

Soon, they arrived in Wyzima. The city thrived from the drawback of the Black Ones. As they entered the city through the gates, Temerian flags were hung up on every window, people were celebrating. Jugglers in the streets made jokes about Emhyr, rightfully so, how the White Flame got extinguished by White Lilies. Roche actually laughed at that. Men wore blue shirts or hats, women wore blue flowers in their hair; everyone showed Temerian colors. On that day, Roche wore his blue coat with more pride than ever. At the chapel, priests were planting in white lilies, also wearing blue tunics themselves. 

“Would the two men like some flowers?”, a young woman asked.

She also wore blue flowers in her hair and carried a basket full of white lilies. She seemed to give them around to people. Roche smiled.

“Thank you”, he said and leaned down to reach for the flower in the woman’s hand.

As he took the flower, the woman’s gaze wandered down, observing his medal.

“This medal”, she gasped with wide eyes.

“A valor medal I received because---“

“You’re Vernon Roche!”, the woman exclaimed.

“That’s right”, he said with a smile, “I fought for a free Temeria the past few months and here we are.”

Geralt smiled at him, but then excused them and spurred their horse. Shortly afterwards they reached the stables, letting their mare finally get some well-deserved rest. As they got off the horse, Roche shot Geralt the sweetest of looks and handed him the lily in an over the top romantic way. 

“What are you doing, Vernon?”, Geralt asked laughing.

“I’m being romantic”, he replied with a smile.

“You’re being Dandelion.”

With that, they roared with laughter, having to hold onto their stomachs. 

“Right”, Roche said, wiping away a tear from laughing, “Let’s go to the cemetery.”

Geralt nodded and with that, they were on their way.


	29. Coming full circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche and Geralt are yet again at the cemetery...

In the late afternoon they reached the cemetery grounds, luckily not guarded anymore by Black Ones. But they will be protected again, once Roche found the time to deal with the assignment of guards in Wyzima. 

“Want to go in alone again?”, Geralt asked and held the gate open.

“No, I want you with me this time”, Roche replied and took the Witcher by the hand.

The cemetery looked so much different than the last time he was here. Where leaves were scattered on the ground last time, freshly renewed gravel paths were drawn through the ground. Every last bit of weed was cut or tugged out the ground, making room for red roses and white lilies. They were blooming beautifully, Roche thought. His gaze wandered around the tombstones. Even they have been cleaned up from moss, vines and bird feces. Roche smiled brightly at Geralt, who gave him a warm smile back. 

“It’s beautiful again”, he said quietly.

Geralt hummed.

The walked hand in hand to Foltest’s grave. Roche kneeled down in front of it, careful not to destroy any flowers. He looked at the gravestone, his gaze softening more and more, until he started smiling. Then he laughed and lastly cried out of happiness. Again he had to hold onto the stone for support.

“We did it”, he sobbed with joy, “Temeria is free again.”

Geralt squatted down next to the crying man and gently put his hand on Roche’s back, stroking up and down.

“Anais should be here any day, too. I will do anything to protect here. And this time”, he took a deep breath, “I won’t fail. I promise you that. Foltest… father, I hope you’re not mad I made a pact with Nilfgaard.”

“I’m sure he isn’t. He must be the proudest he’s ever been of you right now”, Geralt said quietly.

“And I finally found someone to spend my life with”, Roche said with a smile, “It’s Geralt. I’ve never been happier in my life. He helped my free Temeria—“

“And Vernon saved my life on more than one occasion”, the Witcher interrupted, giving Roche a kiss on the cheek.

“You saved my life, too, though”, he replied, “Want to get moving again? You’re awaited at the castle, remember?”

“I know, I know”, Roche said as he got onto his feet again, wiping away a few last tears, “But let’s walk around town for a bit. Politics can wait until tomorrow I think.”

“Never thought I’d hear anything like that but as you wish”, Geralt chuckled and took Roche by the hand again.

They walked out the cemetery, looking around the city. Still there were people celebrating, drinking and dancing on the streets. Sometimes Geralt got recognized, sometimes Roche. People thanked them both for their deeds, sometimes even giving them presents. As the hour grew late, they decided to go to the inn they’ve stayed in together before. Inside, there were dozens of (mostly drunk) people, singing songs about Temeria and cursing the Nilfgaardians. Geralt and Roche decided to rent a room together and then quickly go upstairs. 

“You don’t have to share a room”, the innkeep said.

“No thanks, we’ll share”, Geralt replied and gave him some money. 

They didn’t feel like sitting between singing and shouting drunkards, so they headed upstairs. In their room, they undressed and lied down together on the bed, facing each other. 

“So”, Geralt began, “Any idea how the future is going to look like?”

“Well, at first I have lots of political things to do. Once Anais is back Natalis, Thaler and I will teach her everything she needs to know to take the throne one day. Until she is old enough, we’ll have to see who rules Temeria.”

“I meant our future together, Vernon.”

“Right”, Roche said a little embarrassed, “Our future. At first, we have to get a house, of course. I don’t want to have only one little room in the castle.”

“Where would that house be?”

“Maybe near the castle? Or in the Trade Quarters? It depends on where there are houses for sale…”

“We’ll see about that”, Geralt replied and took Roche in his arms, “What else?”

“Mmmh… let me think”, Roche tapped himself on the chin playfully.

During that night, they barely slept. Roche and Geralt were too busy talking and thinking about their future together. They planned how the house should be decorated like, who does the cooking and who needs to clean up when. They made jokes about buying a maid or a personal cook and kept nagging each other. Geralt would take on the occasional monster contract to not get out of practice, while Roche would be busy at court, helping Anais learn what it means to be queen. He also had to build up the Blue Stripes again, hopefully with the help of Ves. Speaking of Ves, they talked about her and Ciri, as well. Would Geralt’s daughter be with them? Maybe she’d become a Witcher, helping Geralt with contracts and vice versa. Or she would take the throne of Nilfgaard. Emhyr offered her to become empress, she mentioned when they rode off from Crow’s Perch. That got them thinking of Yennefer and Triss in Kovir. They both hoped Ciri would make the journey safely together with Ves. If Ciri were to become empress, she’d need a sorceress as advisor; maybe Yen would do that for her and Triss would come back to Wyzima to become Anais’ advisor… But they weren’t even sure, if Ciri would take the throne, so they didn’t think about that any more. 

As minutes and hours passed and the two men got more and more tired, they were less talking and more kissing and cuddling, happy to have each other and looking forward to spending many more nights together…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. Finally finished it. 
> 
> Thanks for all the nice comments, all the kudos and the massive amount of hits! We never thought our fic would get even more than 100 hits, honestly :D It was so much fun writing it, researching details etc etc etc and it was so fucking worth it! 
> 
> I hope you had as much fun reading as we had writing <3 Maybe we'll see each other in the next one :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to aledbr on tumblr for writing this fic with me! 
> 
> She's great, check her art out! ( aledbr.tumblr.com )
> 
> Thanks also to arkemisia, littlepootis and bitchkingofthedamned for beta-reading and their support & love throughout our writing process <3


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